The Revenge of the Wood Elf (Telerius galadh)

Disclaimer: 

I own none of the characters of this story and make no profit from it. All those characters from canon belong to the Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema.

BW, BP, Telerius galadh and galadhrima and the concept of the dissection team are the creations of Bryn, as is the Scientific Research Department of Middle Earth and its mailing address. She tells me that all scientists have signed a waiver to forgo suing this fine nonprofit institution if harm befall them in the course of their work

Dedicated to Bryn,

whose scientific expertise in the preparation of "Dissection" and "Notes from the Field" first amused and then inspired me. Please do read her stories to better understand the warped paths down which we are about to tread. Those stories are hysterically funny, if somewhat dark, and can be found at this site. For her graciousness and support, I also thank her, and I send my condolences to the families of the dissection team.

N.B., character thoughts, however vicious, and the entries of BW in her journal are indicated in italics.

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Prologue: The Halls of Mandos

Haldir decided he was weary. It had been a confusing time. He forced his thoughts to return to it again:

OK, I’m guarding the northern border of Lothlórien that night with Rúmil and Orophin We heard a great noise as if an army of orcs approached. I told them to stay in the shelter of the tree tops and go to investigate. Tracking them was as easy as oliphaunts, and they made almost as much noise. When I found them, none knew of my presence so intent on their own kinstrife did they seem. A strange tongue it was, harsh as the black speech of Sauron, and the accents hurt my ears. I crept closer until I saw them on the path before me, and I leaped quickly into the sheltering arms of the tree above me. They huddled together below, consulting a tattered and folded parchment in their hands, which also held torches of a kind I had never seen for there was no fire in them and yet they gave forth light. Each wore a black cloak of a foreign cut, for they were short and had tight sleeves and some sort of wrought silver device with interlocking teeth that held them close to their bodies, no doubt for ease in battle. Runes in white such that I did not recognize were on the back of each cloak. I fixed the runes in my memory, for the Lord Celeborn is wise and learned in all the tongues of Middle Earth and will surely decipher them: "C-A-S-T-I-N-G". I know not if this be the name of their folk or the one they worship for in my heart I know full well these savages have ne’er heard Ilúvatar’s Song. All at once, there came a great light that illuminated the sheltering darkness of the forest. So sudden was this coming of false day that I was startled and fell to the ground and knew no more.

Haldir knew he was supposed to be thinking as he sat here in the Halls of the Dead, but he really was tired, and these particular thoughts were not helping that. He had awoken in a fell land called New Zealand and had been consumed in his mind so that he knew naught but that he must return to Lothlórien where lay his duty to the Lord and Lady, and he had become confused.

Haldir sighed. Maybe he would think about his brothers. He missed them and wondered how they fared without his guidance. That was not so confusing. He sighed yet again.

"Mae govannen, Haldir o Lórien."

He knew that voice and he lifted his head and leaped up to face his friend. "Legolas! Mae govannen, mellon nîn!" He drew closer and then fell back in horror, feeling the bile rise in his throat. Legolas it was and yet while his fair face seemed the same except for some fading scars upon it, the body look as if the very wargs had torn it. What evil of Sauron had done this to his friend?

Seeing the horror on Haldir’s face, Legolas kicked himself mentally. He kept forgetting how sensitive the Galadhrim could be to all that was not fair and good and beautiful, although he privately considered them an improvement over that bunch in Imladris, the ones who even used tack when they rode. Much as he admired Glorfindel, Legolas always thought those bells were a bit much. Trained to courtesy, he of course expressed this thought to no one.

"Peace, Haldir, the wounds are nothing for you know full well that we elves are resilient and quick to heal." In his deep courtesy and concern for Haldir that he might be relieved of this great distress, Legolas kept his voice bright and cheerful, nay even perky. "See, one can scarce still note what they did to my head and that was a mess in truth. Soon the wounds will all be gone." Ai, you’d think he was an elfling, this one, and never seen anyone carved up in battle! At least the spawn of Udûn had not poisoned their blades. Not that that will move me to pity when at last I track them to their foul lair and grind them beneath my foot.

"Devils they must be to treat even an enemy so!"

"Well, I was dead at the time. It’s called dissection." Seeing Haldir’s confusion, Legolas sighed. He really would rather not go into details as he still found them a bit disturbing himself. "Think of it as the desecration of the fallen that is oft seen among the orcs. A cause for vengeance and retribution but not good to dwell upon." That seemed to do the trick for a thirst for vengeance awoke in Haldir’s fair eyes. Ai, Galadhrim! thought Legolas, but he smiled politely.

"Legolas?"

What now? he thought even as yet again he smiled politely. He’d noticed that being dissected seemed to leave behind a lingering foul mood, so perhaps it was unfair of him to wonder if you hit someone who was already dead it would have the desired effect.

"Forgive me, but it was always my impression that we weren’t really supposed to bring our bodies with us. I recall all those solemn ceremonies we observed as we buried our gallant comrades." Haldir finally got to the point. "Do you think they might be displeased with us?"

It was a point that had crossed Legolas’ own mind. As nimble of thought as he had ever been of foot, he had come up with a rationale. "Well, that’s all very well if you happen to be slain in battle with your comrades in arms left behind to take care of all the niceties or you manage to kill the balrog at the same time you are killed by it so it doesn’t end up having your remains for lunch." Must remember to ask Glorfindel how he managed that trick. "I mean, what were we to do, Haldir? There I was on this stupid metal table" I really must ask Gimli what that metal was; it was very cold. "and with some silly bit of parchment they insisted on tying about my toe. They’d already cut me to pieces, and it really doesn’t bear thinking about what they might do for an encore!" Oh, I will have my revenge upon those spawn of Udûn growled his thoughts. "Besides, there was the time factor as you recall. This Námo fellow only gives you a finite amount of time to accept his invitation and hie thee hither to his halls. If you muck about too long, you turn into one of those dwimmerlaik like as not. All that spectralish wandering about is not my cup of tea. I don’t know about you, but I was not about to leave my body there as it’s served me rather well, and that’s all I have to say about that." Legolas could be very stubborn as all well knew, and Haldir took comfort from that. Perhaps even the Valar might hesitate to argue with him? He listened attentively as Legolas continued. "And what of you? Oh, you don’t even have to tell me the details. It’s the first story I was hit with when I arrived. It’s all over the place. It seems that somebody somewhere must have forgotten to write down at least one stanza of Ilúvatar’s Song for the buzz is that even the Valar can’t seem to recall where they put New Zealand. What’s it like by the way?"

"What’s what like?"

"New Zealand!" Honestly, these Galadhrim.! What does he think I mean? I think the altitude gets to them. All those talans; can’t be completely stabilizing to the mind. Legolas smiled politely

Two can play at this, mellon nîn. You don’t want to speak of the dissecting or whatever you call it; I’d rather not speak of New Zealand. "Tis a fell land and better not spoken of in such a sacred place as this." Haldir smiled politely and inclined his head gracefully to the other elf for good measure.

Oh, right! I’d forgotten that insufferable little head dip they do. Celeborn’s the only one who can really pull it off, but they all insist on it. "Anyway, to get back to my point. There you were in this fell land called New Zealand and some stupid Uruk shows up and cleaves your head in with his sword. It was a sword, wasn’t it?"

"Yes, one of those odd bent ones they use."

Legolas nodded, Gimli says they’re too dim to figure out how to forge a straight sword, stupid gits.

Haldir continued. "There were a lot of the Uruk-Hai actually. I managed to kill the first one." They made a lot of fuss about that one. Kept screaming for something called an ambulance. Very confusing. Haldir sighed.

"Well done, Haldir! You bring honor to your house." It was the courteous remark to make. "A lot of the Uruk-Hai in New Zealand? Saruman’s got to have his dainty little fingers in this someplace. Anyway, I digress." Legolas took a sip from the cup of wine Haldir had handed him. Not bad. Not great as you’d expect here, but not bad. " So, there you were with your head cleaved and nothing but the Uruk-Hai about. I mean, you know what those guys do to dead bodies, don’t you? One simply couldn’t leave one’s behind, could one? It wouldn’t be clear thinking, now would it? They’ll just have to make allowances."

It made a certain amount of sense to Haldir, but then he was already confused, and Legolas was well schooled in politics by Thranduil. Haldir, of course, was not about to mention that there were other type of fell folk about other than the Uruk-Hai. The Uruk-Hai were difficult enough to explain, and Legolas shared a little of his father’s impatient temperament. Least said, soonest mended as Haldir’s mother had taught him. "Perhaps you are right."

Legolas started to reply but was interrupted by a horrible retching sound. So loud was it and unexpected in these sacred halls that he reached at once for his white knives. Great, just great! I keep forgetting I lost those when that pond scum attacked me. Somebody had better have rescued them for me afterwards or there will be a real problem when I get back. Bad enough they all ran away when that wand-like thing exploded. Must remember to ask Mithrandir what that was all about. He looked at Haldir. "Did you hear that?" The retching sound was repeated.

"It sounds as if a soul in torment is retching." Haldir’s voice was sad and troubled.

Soul in torment? Ai, it is some elf puking, probably had too much wine, but for the Galadhrim it must needs be a soul in torment!  "No, doubt you are right, my Lord Haldir, and it is our duty to assist such soul. I believe my eyes see him in the distance." He shaded his eyes with his long fingers, which was no mean feat in one still healing from dissection as the Wise would tell you. But, he had been raised to courtesy and saw his duty. "Let us fly to his assistance!"

"I follow you, Lord Legolas!"

Swiftly and silently they ran to the fallen elf. As they approached him, they recognized him as the stranger from Imladris who had but recently passed them as they spoke together. Of course, they had arisen as he passed to exchange fair words of greeting with one of their kindred as had been their training. The stranger, for his part, had made appropriate reply. However, Haldir, who was not often so perceptive, had noticed that the stranger had seemed to become paler as they spoke, and his glow had diminished, and he had turned his eyes from the sight of Legolas’ ravaged body that was visible beneath the strange cloak of thin white cloth he wore. The cloak seemed to have been much torn in Legolas’ journey and the odd and terrible sword wounds upon his body were readily to be seen beneath and his dried blood was upon it. Haldir made a mental note to ask Legolas why it was tied at the back if opportunity arose.

The Imladris elf rose from his knees and assured them that, while he full well appreciated the depths of their courtesy to him, a stranger, and was indebted to both their houses, his honor would not let him trespass further upon their thinking in these hallowed halls, and he bade them a sad farewell. Haldir wasn’t sure, but he thought the stranger had his hand to his mouth as he hastened away.   It was all very confusing.

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Dwimmerlaik:  Rohirric for "work of necromancy, specter"; used by Éowyn to describe the Lord of the Nazgûl.

Udûn:  Sindarin for "un-West", possibly akin to "hell"  

Ilúvatar:  Quenya for "All-Father" In a very over-simplified explanation, the Song or Music of Ilúvatar was the creation song wherein he revealed to the Ainur the three great themes of this music. Melkor created discord therein and the rest is history.

Mae govannen, Haldir o Lórien: "well met [archaic form of greeting], Haldir of Lórien" 

Mellon nîn: Sindarin for "my friend" .

Galadhrim:  Sindarin for "tree people"; refers to elves (primarily Silvan) who dwell in Lórien under the rule of Galadrial and Celeborn; also spelled Galadrim 

Námo/Mandos: A Vala. He is the ordainer or judge for all the Valar and keeps the Houses of the Dead. Very rarely, as with Glorfindel, he will be moved by pity or some other motivation and allow a being to return from his halls. 

Talan:  Sindarin for "flat" (in Westron, "flet"), living platforms in trees used by elves; in particular, the Galadhrim

Uruk-Hai:: generic name for a large and singularly unpleasant species of orcs; Uruk (singular) and Uruks (anglicized plural) for individuals or groups within this generic designation

Chapter 1 - Lothlórien

"Celeborn!" He looked up, and his senses were immediately alert, for he heard in his lady’s voice her need for him to aid her, and he moved to her side as he had ever done through all the long centuries of their lives.

Galadriel stood tall and beautiful and handed the parchment she had been reading to her husband, nay, her life, for Celeborn had long been that and more.

As her Lord took it from her hand, she felt his strong arm encircle her waist, and she was comforted. She watched his loved face as he read and saw the darkening of his clear eyes and knew that he would never fail her

"Galadriel! How can this be? Our noble Haldir saw I but four weeks ago as I journeyed on the North Border of our realm. He guarded our people’s safety as ever with his quiet courage. And his young brethern saw I with him. I scarce can believe this report from Rúmil that Orophin has brought us in such haste."

"I fear it is true, my love, for, e’er I sent Orophin to his rest, I read the deep troubles of his young heart and how with Rúmil he tracked their brother, as together they mourned their loss and vowed to take no rest until they found Haldir or slew those who had harmed him. Rúmil still watches where the track of Haldir ended, but he knows his peril among these savages and wisely sends the news to us in case he should fall in battle." Her face reflected infinite sadness, for she had long held these three of her Galadhrim in her motherly affection. "Celeborn, my heart feels a shadow grow upon it as I read of the belly of the great silver beast into which these young brothers saw Haldir carried and how it took wing into the air as if some fell mount of the Nazgûl had returned from the Void."

Tender was the embrace of her husband and from his voice she felt her courage reborn. "Then we shall fight as of old, my Lady, and against us they shall fall yet again." She leaned her golden head against his chest and her voice was soft.

"There is more that I must tell you, husband, for in the watches of the night, I grew troubled in my mind. I wished not to disturb your slumber for your burden has been heavy of late, and so I slipped from your bed and went to converse with the night. There in the glade I felt myself drawn to look into the Mirror."

He held her closer as she trembled. "The horror that I saw there was almost beyond my strength, and in my heart I knew somehow that it was real I saw unspeakable horrors done upon the son of Thranduil, and felt his fear beaten by his great courage as he endured the torment of his body and kept yet his noble spirit free. He is dead, my Lord, and even that was not enough for their bloodlust, for they then defiled his fair body in ways I cannot speak, until Legolas’ courage smote them, and he reclaimed his ravaged body from them and bore it with him to Mandos. For I sought the mind of Thranduil, and he has confirmed all. I have pledged to him our aid."

"You speak ever for me in this for our hearts are as one. Let your courage not fail you, my lady, and speak all that you must tell me for I would not let you bear this burden alone." Celeborn held her then as she spoke of seeing in the mists a fell place called New Zealand and how there Haldir, the gallant warrior of the Galadhrim, was beset on all sides by foul creatures and yet ever fought to return to the duty he owed his Lord and Lady.

Then, as a mother mourning her child, she spoke of their young warrior who had pledged his life to Celeborn and in his service had been thrown by these evil creatures to the fury of the Uruk-Hai. And she spoke of one she named the Abomination who seemed in the Mirror to be their king, for all listened to his words and it was at his behest that the Galadhrim lost one of its children.

And she spoke of his foul pleasure in his deed even as Haldir lay dying at his feet and how he had let none give aid or comfort to this son of the Galdhrim. And the voice of Galadriel was soft but terrible as she described the Abomination’s appearance, so that Celeborn might recognize him when they met, for meet they must as she well knew. Her voice dripped with scorn as she described the squat figure the Mirror had revealed to her and the dark locks that curled lankly around his evil face and the strange garb of shortened leggings that he wore and the foul accents of his voice. Celeborn held her as she shuddered at this remembered vileness, and the image he seared into his brain. For Celeborn the Wise knew that he would meet the Abomination even if he must follow him into the Void itself.

"My lord, Haldir killed many e’er he fell, his head cleaved by an Uruk blade, in a strange land and far from his brothers. Even then, did he honor you, for he left not the body of a Galadhrim to be defiled. He too has journeyed to Mandos."

And then Galadriel saw that Celeborn was wroth, and an avenging fire descended upon him, and a mighty oath did he swear that his young kinsman’s blood was upon the land of New Zealand, and he cursed that land and the Abomination forever until the ending of all days.

And Galadriel held him until he grew quiet again, and she heard his voice soft in her ear. "You have a plan?"

"Have I ever failed you in this that you should question me so?" His lips brushed her forehead in a silent benison upon their love. "I have a plan."

And Galadriel was held by Celeborn beneath the shadows of the mellyrn, and together their hearts spoke of the path they would journey together.

Chapter 2 - The Library of Imladris

"GLORFINDEL! You are not listening to me at all." Elrond heard the unnatural edge come into his voice and worried. I have got to get a grip. Alright, Elrond, my boy, admit it to yourself. This has not been a good day. In fact, it has not been a good week, and it isn’t even half over yet, and the way things are going next week will be even worse. Just because Galadriel shows up unannounced and without Celeborn, but otherwise with full entourage up to and including that benighted Mirror of hers is not reason to lose sight of centuries of self-control. Elrond wished glumly that she’d sent the Mirror up to Thranduil and kept Celeborn here as he was the only one that Elrond knew in all of Middle Earth who had ever been known to be able to control Galadriel. He took a deep breath and a sip of the wine that Glorfindel had brought with him into the library, and he savored its delicate taste, letting his elven senses participate fully in its delights as he became one with the moment of its being. Three bottles he’s brought. Glorfindel’s not that much of a drinker, so this looks to be a rough night. I’ve never seen that blond git look so upset. Wait? Did I just refer to my best friend as a git? I have got to get a grip." "What ails you, my lord Glorfindel? You are so pale, and your distress pierces my heart." He’s always pale, Elrond. ALL blond elves are pale, and you are currently encircled by blond elves. They’re all here except Celeborn and Thranduil, and the way things are going they’ll probably show up next. How on earth does Thranduil conceal himself with that mane of gold hair up in Taur-E-Ndaedelos? And that ridiculous crown of berries and red leaves of his? Everybody else wears a circlet, but not old Mad-Elf Thranduil. May as well carry a glowing firebrand, so that the spiders would find him easily. Seems to get away with it though. Thranduil has always gotten away with things. Just look at that situation with those dwarves that time. Like to see what they’d have done to me if I locked up dwarves in the dungeons of Imladris. No, wait. We don’t have dungeons in Imladris. Must discuss this with Erestor. Glorfindel no good. He’d just insist we smite prisoners heads off or something like that. A good warrior but no finesse.

"I crave your pardon, good Master Elrond. I have been long closeted with Galadriel, and I fear that my head doth ache a bit."

That explains the wine. Maybe I should contribute an extra bottle? Galadriel is definitely in a major snit about Haldir and Legolas both. Can’t blame her really, but she’s got to calm down. Nice kids those two even if they are blond. Terrible things to have happened to them. Galadriel’s right. It does cry out for vengeance. ."What sought she from you, Glorfindel, if your honor allows you to reveal it?"

"Reveal it? Who needs to reveal it? Half the elves in Imladris must have heard her screaming at me. If you hadn’t been up here with your nose in a book as usual, you would have no need to ask what she wants."

Elrond drew himself up stiffly. "I have been looking for New Zealand."

"Well, that’s important. Any luck?"

"Nay, it appears to be a bewitched land whose shape may shift ever to better conceal itself beneath the mists." That ought to shut him up for a while until he figures out what I really said. Glorfindel’s never been good at silvery speech, although he is a blond so you might expect it. "Pray, Glorfindel, say on. What request had the Lady of the Galadhrim to you?"

"She wants me to convince Námo to send Legolas and Haldir back."

"She wants you to WHAT?" Elrond’s voice ascended into a roar that then ended in a strangled whimper as he caught himself in the nets of self-control he had woven for himself in the ages of his life.

"Send them back. You know, Elrond, like I was, post-Balrog. Says if I could manage it for myself, I should be able to come up with an idea or two now. She says I owe her one or two over the years."

That’s it. I finally have proof. My mother-in-law is crazy, mad as a hatter, completely bats. Can just hear the dialogue. "Excuse me Námo, we’d really like to have Legolas and Haldir back, so how about it?"

"It might work, you know, Elrond. I never told you this, but Námo and I have sort of kept in mind contact over the years. He’s got a pretty grim job after all, and I suppose it’s nice to be in contact with someone whose willing to sing your praises for his restored life for a change. Nice fellow really, Námo."

Weren’t you the one I heard once describe Sauron as misguided? Or was that Erestor? Yes. Probably Erestor. Erestor really has too much time on his hands." You never mentioned being in touch with Námo before."Elrond took a deep breath to calm himself and made himself sit down tall and regal at his desk

Glorfindel poured out two more glasses of wine and handed one to his friend. "Well, it’s not a constant thing you know, Midsummer, Solstice, the major holidays. . .just to catch up on the gossip. People tend not to confide in him you see, what with him always having to weigh their fates in his balances and all. He gets lonely."

Elrond took a steadying sip at his wine. It’s the blondness. It does this to them. I’m sure of it. Give me fifteen raven-tressed elves, and we’ll have a nice sensible discussion and get something done and it’s over with. Add one blond, and it’s all out the window and the next thing you know they’re proposing a Quest like as not. "Has he been in touch recently?"

"About an hour ago. Said he heard Galadriel shouting and waited until she left. I don’t think he’s really completely forgiven her, keeps muttering about his hand being forced over lifting her ban."

"That’s understandable. Makes him look bad if it happens too often. Think you, Glorfindel, that his heart may soften unto our young warriors?

"Well, Legolas has been talking to him I understand, and Námo seems to be pretty wroth about the matter himself now. Between us, Elrond, do yourself a favor and don’t ask that elfling about the dissection. Námo says it’s enough to turn your stomach. Legolas can be pretty graphic when he gets wound up as I recall."

Mentally trying to picture Legolas’ reaction to being called an elfling even by Glorfindel, Elrond refilled their glasses. "So, you think he’ll do it, my friend?"

"Says he will if I come pick them up. He just doesn’t want Galadriel to know it was easy. Says she’ll start thinking he’s a pushover and pester him every time one of the Galadhrim falls in battle." Politely, Glorfindel drew a veil over Námo’s remark to him that he’d be damned if he’d be stuck in his Halls with nothing but that Imladris bunch for company. For Glorfindel was of the House of Finarfin, and he was courteous. He had no desire to hurt Elrond, who had been his boon companion for lo these thousand years or more.

And Glorfindel lay his hand upon his friend’s hand and did smile sweetly as he began to speak fair words to him to lighten the sadness and despair of his friend’s face.

"Elrond?"

"Yes, Glorfindel, mellon nîn?"

"I shall leave before the coming of the morning light and, if I make it sound very, very difficult upon my return, Galadriel will owe us one. " Glorfindel smiled into the heart of his friend and saw that heart quicken with joy, and it was enough that he knew he had pleased his friend.

"May Ilúvatar guide you in this journey." Tears of joy and sadness both were in his eyes as Elrond raised his hand in blessing over his friend and filled their glasses with wine that they might drink together the parting cup. Every once in a while even a blond will speak with wisdom. And ever after was the great friendship of Glorfindel and Elrond woven into the songs of the First Born.

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Author’s Note: For the purposes of this story, I rule and declare that his Majesty King Thranduil is a blond. ‘Tis a fair thing to be queen!

Ilúvatar: Quenya for "All-Father" In a very over-simplified explanation, the Song or Music of Ilúvatar was the creation song wherein he revealed to the Ainur the three great themes of this music. Melkor created discord therein and the rest is history

Mellon nîn: Sindarin for "my friend"

Galadhrim: Sindarin for "tree people"; refers to elves (primarily Silvan) who dwell in Lórien under the rule of Galadriel and Celeborn; also spelled Galadrim

Námo/Mandos: A Vala. He is the ordainer or judge for all the Valar and keeps the Houses of the Dead. Very rarely, as with Glorfindel, he will be moved by pity or some other motivation and allow a being to return from his halls.

Taur E-Ndaedelos: Sindarin for "Forest of Great Fear", also known as Mirkwood, the Wood, the Great Wood, Eryn Lasgalen (Sindarin for "Wood of Green Leaves") and, originally, Greenwood the Great. "

Chapter 3 - The Dungeons of Thranduil

I am in deep trouble. This is not just a bad day. This is not even a very bad day. THIS is a horrific, don’t know to what or where to turn, and I think I really am going insane BAD day. BW took a very, very deep breath, trying to remember those fool yogic breath control lessons the department had sprung for to eat up an unexpected budget surplus close to the end of the fiscal year. The Department of Wood-Elf Studies never admited to a surplus of money. To do so could affect your operating budget for years to come.

She moved her neck tentatively. OK, that seems alright. Really thought it was dislocated when that large one threw me over his shoulder. Gil-Galad the others kept calling him and singing his praises. They seemed in awe of him somehow, kept touching their right hands to their hearts and extending them to him. Probably a gesture to acknowledge male dominance. I wonder if this is a sub-species? We studied Phoebus, Zippy, Bandaid and company for over a year, and they never evidenced hostile behavior. Except for stealing bandaids and the odd sleeping bag, they were gentle and curious and amazingly willing to interact with us. And, courteous. God, are they courteous! If I could get a date who was half as courteous as Zippy, I’d die happy. Plus, he’d be able to mend butterfly wings, unlike that clot LH who wrecked my car and was eating me out of house and home. This new group, however, definitely evidenced hostility. I’m good at languages, and I’ve become the de facto language expert for the team because, if the others tried, the wood-elves tended to become hysterical, laughing until they could barely stand upright. Zippy snorted and cut himself badly when BD tried to talk to him while he was carving an arrow. He actually hissed at BD, and Zippy never hissed before. Phoebus hissed. Not Zippy. I thought the team’s language attempts amused them because they are by nature a merry group. BD maintained it’s because they are a sarcastic bunch of sods. Still, I don’t like what I’ve been hearing this time. It’s ugly and frightening. Wood-Elves have never been like that to my knowledge. They were always shy and gentle creatures and unfailingly merry and courteous. Maybe I was wrong to ignore the murmuring I heard? Sindarin is still new to me, and I thought it was all my misinterpretation. Kept hearing that one phrase though. "Legolas Thranduilion" followed by hissing and anger, much anger. I don’t know what it means, but that phrase unfailingly unsettled the Wood-Elves. It wasn’t my imagination. They grew fearful and then angry, very angry. We kept observing male threat patterns as they sharpened their white knives incessently. And they would sing a lot at night. The songs were always melancholy though, almost like dirges.. Not like Zippy’s usual cheerful melodies. Really gave me the creeps. I wonder what did happen to BD?

The thought of BD brought her back to herself. Where was he? She’d gotten separated from him when they were ambushed. Her head still ached from where that Gil-Galad had conked her with that spear he always seemed to carry, and she wasn’t yet sure what the date was, so she didn’t know how many days she’d been alone. She’d gotten suckered into this expedition. She saw that now. She’d told herself that she needed the extra money and since she and LH had ended it in such a spectacularly ugly manner it would be good to get out of town for a time. Get her head back in order and all. Her heart hadn’t really been in it though. She still had nightmares when she remembered the dissection. She had screamed and cursed at everyone in her path and even filed a formal written complaint to try and prevent it but to no avail. They had put her on enforced medical leave due to stress they said and, while she was confined to the nursing home, they had done it. They’d deliberately killed one of these gentle creatures, so they could dissect him to further their god Science. There was a public outcry, but they’d also got a lot of press, and that usually equaled grants, another of their gods.   She tried not to think of this often, but she did now. She already felt like garbage, so what did it matter? She wondered suddenly what had happened to Zippy? Was he still alive, or had he fallen victim to the poachers?

Zippy? Shouldn’t I be wondering about BD? He’s my colleague after all. No. I don’t care about BD really. I don’t give a damn if I’m honest. He’s a drunken sot, but his father gives so much money to the department that we get stuck hauling him around. Zippy was different though. He used to look like a ripe idiot with all those bandaids stuck all over him. It always made me laugh. Once I caught him looking at me with almost human intelligence and wondered if he were doing it precisely to make me laugh. The paragon of the scientific method, that’s me! Still, I’d had a really bad day what with that wonderful letter from LH telling me he’d managed to total my new car, and there was this Telerius galadh covered with bandaids smiling at me, and I started laughing until I couldn’t stand up. Zippy laughed with me I remember and then leaped into the trees. I remember him singing as he made his way back to the Halls of Thranduil, the primary residence of our study group. You’d have thought he understood about my day, but I knew I was anthropomorphising. He was just a healthy specimen of T. galadh. They are always laughing. He didn’t understand human emotion. Still, I hope he’s safe somewhere.

BW leaned back against the cold stone walls of her cell, and knew she was crying. She was so miserable that it didn’t matter.

*****

"In all my long years, Thranduil, ne’er have I seen creatures so dreadful. I know not how you managed to capture even this number for they appear reckless of their own safety and would dash themselves upon the rocks of Udûn rather than turn from their evil paths." Celeborn shuddered and turned from the window of the cell wherein the Mary Sues wailed and gnashed their teeth at him. He found he could not bear to look at the fell creatures within, for despite their fair appearance he was wise and knew that they were shape shifters, turning all that was fair in their appearance into a snare for those whose paths they crossed.  Many of the youngest of the Galadhrim, still new in their service to their Lord, had fallen victim to this foul evil and been betrayed by it unto their deaths. Thranduil had less of a problem as Celeborn knew, for many of his elves had hair as dark as the night of the Great Wood. But, the Galadhrim in their radiance fell oft to these fell creatures. Then had Celeborn and his Lady mourned with the mothers of his fallen warriors even as they knew that their tears would ne’er bring them safely home again.

"So, what do you think I should do with them?" Look at him! Celeborn certainly is the best of the Galadhrim, but he’s still a Galadhrim. His damn glow is diminishing just looking at these sluts! I swear, if Galadriel didn’t have Nenya all these long years, Lórien would be a subdivision of Mordor by now. "They can’t stay here forever. I’m using up most of whatever goodwill I had with my she-elf warriors." They want to use them for target practice I hear. Can’t say that I blame them either.

"Galadriel has thought of that, Thranduil." Celeborn drew comfort from the thought of his Lady and his lips curved into a soft smile. "She has a plan."

"A plan? Don’t suppose she’s revealed it to you yet, has she?" Thranduil was naturally suspicious. He seemed to remember that Galadriel had been in Doriath. The dwarves must not have heard that the elves there had a plan?  He snorted in disdain but was careful not to let Celeborn perceive this.

"She is still interpreting the Mirror." Celeborn was courteous above all the elves of his realm, and thus he ignored the strangled indignation of Thranduil, for to notice it would bring his friend shame in the morning's light. However, seeing that the very leaves of Thranduil’s crown were starting to quiver with his fury, Celeborn said smoothly. "She has sent word to Éowyn and that fair lady has agreed to ride to our assistance and take charge of them. Hold them but a little longer, friend Thranduil, for Galadriel feels certain that they have a part to play in our vengeance against the Abomination who slew Haldir of the Galadhrim and took him from his brothers. She and Elrond are consulting the library at Imladris now that you have revealed to us that the tribe of these fell creatures is called Mary Sue."

"Oh, swell! Elrond is in his damn library again, and this time he’s got Galadriel with him, and I’ve got that stupid shieldmaiden of the Rohirrim galloping toward my palace to take care of the Mary Sues. THAT should drive the shadows of evil back from the Wood as soon as they become aware of it. No doubt the next squirrel I see shall be white!

Thranduil grunted. He was in a foul mood and wanted to punch something. Celeborn would be a satisfying target, but he knew that wouldn’t fall under the heading of courteous, and Legolas said he already had a bad reputation for his temper. "Throwing a Thranduil" Legolas said he’d heard it called in Imladris when an elf was angry. Curse Imladris! All they ever do is drift around their waterfalls in those long robes. No wonder they had to use tack when they rode. Even Glorfindel is getting stange living with that bunch. Legolas said he actually has taken to putting bells on Asfaloth! Glorfindel never did that before. You couldn’t blame that on the House of the Golden Flower despite its unfortunate name. No, it was all the influence of Imladris. Insidious place, Imladris. Cannot understand what that boy of mine saw in the place. Can’t be Arwen. Galadriel and I discussed a betrothal. Wouldn’t have been a good match though. Legolas always had a tendency to push Arwen out of trees when she annoyed him. He always caught her before she hit the ground, and that made Arwen laugh, but Galadriel figured Elrond probably wouldn’t understand. He’s not big on trees, Elrond. Galadriel was probably right on that one. Besides, Legolas said Arwen was smitten with that mongrel Estel that Elrond was fostering. Not that Legolas recognizes what a mutt he is either. Seems he thinks of him as a friend. King of Gondor, indeed. Pure luck that was and the presence of my son, of course. Still, I don’t have to worry about Legolas on that score. Mortal women drive him nuts. Says he can’t even take a walk in the forest some days what with them falling from the sky or darting into his path. Serve the Peredhil right if his daughter ran off with a mortal! Legolas. Thranduil was still upset about Legolas. The boy was a fool sometimes what with all that hanging around with dwarves and mortals, but he was Thranduil’s son, and the king missed his presence in Arda.

"So, Celeborn, have they found New Zealand yet?" Thranduil’s voice was loud and wroth and echoed in the dungeon’s hall. He did not wish to continue thinking of his son. He wanted to dwell upon revenge instead. The Lord of the Galadhrim knew this and smiled politely, but he felt his friend’s sorrow press upon his own heart for he had himself lost a child and knew well that there were no words of comfort in him that could help Thranduil. And deep within himself wept Celeborn the Wise for the loss of Legolas from his father’s arms.

"Nay, not yet. I admit Galadriel is getting vexed with Elrond." Celeborn shook his silver head sadly. "Would that I could give my Lady the gift she so desires. Would that I could lay New Zealand before her feet."

Thranduil was about to reply to his friend when they were both startled by a shrill whistle and the banging of a wooden goblet against the bars of the cell. Celeborn drew closer and saw a short and rather dirty maiden peering at him through the bars.

"Hey, you with the silver hair!"

Celeborn was startled. In all their years of friendship, Thranduil had never seen his friend so much as blink in battle, even if he were beset with orcs on every side. Ever was he calm. Yet, Celeborn was now definitely startled by a maiden who called to him in Sindarin from the depths of the dungeons of Thranduil. It was not very good Sindarin, but both elven lords could understand it and drew closer to the cell wherein BD had been thrown.

"Speakest thou to me, lady?" Celeborn thought she probably wasn’t really a lady, but he was ever courteous and inclined his head to her as was the custom of the Galadhrim.

"If you’re looking for New Zealand, I’m talking to you." BW took a very deep and steadying breath. There was a lot riding on this conversation, and she doubted if she’d get a second chance. "You see, I’ve been on holiday there. I KNOW where New Zealand is!"

"By the Valar, can this be true, lady? You could lead us there?" BW nodded because she thought she might throw up if she opened her mouth. Celeborn turned to Thranduil and his voice was that of a warrior seeking the report of his captains. "Who is this maiden? From whence comes she to your dungeon? Speak, for the time of our need is now and we must move swiftly to defeat our foes."

"She was rounded up with that group of Mary Sues. As she obviously is no beauty and thus cannot be of that tribe, the she-elf warriors summoned me. In truth, Celeborn, I know not what or who she is, and I am keeping her until I do. Caution means you do not die so quickly here in the Great Wood."

And Celeborn grew silent at these words, and his clear eyes turned upon the face of the maiden BW. And he searched her eyes with his, and she felt his presence in her mind, and there Celeborn saw truth and no evil intentions toward the First Born for he felt her heart to be pure.

"Make her ready for travel, my lord Thranduil, for on the morrow I shall ride with her to Imladris, and there Galadriel will speak with her, and this maiden shall lead us from the darkness."

Then did Celeborn, Lord of the Galadhrim, first smile at BW, and the maiden at once forgot her fear and bowed her head before him and acknowledged him as her king.

__________

Legolas Thranduilion:  Sindarin for "Legolas, Son of Thranduil"

Author’s Note:

What started out as pure parody seems to be evolving and taking on a life of its own. As I wrote the past chapters, the ramifications of the true evil that had befallen the Wood-Elves between the lines of Bryn’s stories entered my mind. Their prince had been killed and his body desecrated. Their king was mourning as a father, and yet had to set aside his grief. His land had been invaded by poachers, who are still killing or capturing his young warriors, and many elven parents in his realm share his own grief. The Wood-Elves have now regrouped their forces, and it seems they would take me down an unknown path. As I’m curious myself to find out what happens, I’m going to follow that path and hope that you will continue to share the journey. I promise that we will still find the Abomination and take our justice e’er the story ends.

This chapter is in part a very dark one. I’ve attempted to keep the gore and violence primarily off page, but it’s there lurking, so take heed. In compensation, I offer a still irreverent and irrepresible Legolas, the continuing education of BW, Celeborn the Warrior King, Gil-Galad, the Wood-Elves coming into their glory, a Haldir who is no longer confused and an explanation of Asfaloth’s infamous bells.

The suspicion of the Wood-Elves of all that is Imladris and their alliance with the Galadhrim are purely my own invention. I bow low to the Cold One and send my humble apologies, good Master Elrond!

To LKK, who noticed that Celeborn is the only elven lord whose thoughts remain his own, much applause and blessings be upon you! This was intentional and will continue. He and Galadriel just are. We cannot know them. Take comfort, though, for there is no evil in his noble heart, and his love for his Lady is ever true and very deep.

Having gotten almost all my main characters back within sight of each other again, I shall now take myself off on a well-earned week in New Orleans and environs. I’m trying to convince Glorfindel to join me. Tour the French Quarter with Glorfy!

____________

Chapter 4 - The Ford at Bruinen

"Glorfindel?" Legolas urged Arod forward until he walked once again beside the mighty Asfaloth. Arod eyed the other horse suspiciously for he was of the Rohirrim, and horses of the Rohirrim wear not bells. He shook his head in disgust, but obeyed Legolas’ silent commands as ever.

"Yes, elfling?"

That’s it! I am seriously going to have to think of doing something about this "elfling" kick he’s on. Thinks it’s hilarious, I bet. He’s been in Imladris too long. Well, this has to be nipped in the bud, and that’s for sure. Just what I need for Gimli to hear. "Legolas, one of the Nine Walkers, Elfling." I’ll never hear the end of it if Gimli once hears it. Stupid dwarf." He sighed. He really missed the stupid dwarf. It was difficult to be astride Arod once again and not be hearing Gimli’s incessent complaining or feeling that dwarven death grip about his waist. The quiver was always a sore point with Gimli. And the white knives. Said they poked him but, as he never could come up with an alternative storage space other than the elf’s back, he just ended up grumbling in his beard. It was a sound Legolas found somehow comforting on a long march.

"Did I just hear you say that Gil-Galad was riding with Celeborn to meet us? You don’t mean the real Gil-Galad, do you? You know the one, Last Alliance, Aeglos and all that?"

"The very same. I scarce can wait to embrace him yet again! It has been far too long." Glorfindel looked happy. But then, Glorfindel always seemed to look happy. This was puzzling to Legolas considering what Glorfindel had been through. Balrogs were no picnic after all. Legolas had encountered one himself, and it certainly hadn’t left him feeling perpetually cheerful.

"Glorfindel?"

"Yes, elfling?" Legolas gritted his teeth. This was not the time. He wanted to get as much information as he could out of Glorfindel and belting him would dry up a valuable source as well as probably get Legolas killed again. He felt out of touch after the dissection and his sojourn in Mandos. "Pray pardon me, Glorfindel, but I do seem to remember that Gil-Galad was dead? Second Age wasn’t it?" Legolas kept his voice courteous as befitted one of the young who spoke to a mighty warrior.

Glorfindel laughed. Even at his grumpiest, Legolas had to admit Glorfindel had a nice laugh. He seemed to surrender himself to it completely, and anyone near him, even Erestor, who could be pretty glum, would be hard put not to at least smile at the sound of it. "Aye, Gil-Galad was dead." He laughed again. "And I was dead and you and Haldir were also dead. Námo I suppose thought that Celeborn might need some help whilst visiting your father. Your father is not an easy elf with whom to deal, Legolas."

"Like to tell me something I don’t know? Try living with him for a few centuries, Glorfindel!" Legolas mulled things over. "Well, it will be interesting to meet him. I certainly heard enough about him from my tutors."

"He is a great warrior. One of our finest" Glorfindel smiled at some memories known only to him and perhaps the great Gil-Galad himself. Legolas really liked Glorfindel. He was so different from his Adar. Thranduil was also a great warrior Legolas knew, and he loved his father. He just didn’t laugh much. Or smile. Legolas sighed. Being the son of Thranduil wasn’t always easy. He no longer expected it to be.

"Lord Celeborn fares well and our Lady?" It was the first time Haldir had spoken for several hours of their day’s journey, for he had seemed deep in thought and kept his own counsel. Legolas kept meaning to joke with him that they were out of Mandos now so he could give all that thinking a rest, but he never did. Haldir seemed very sad, too sad for jest somehow, and Legolas had grown fond of the tall and quiet Galadhrim.

"Both fine now that you are returned to them, Haldir. The Lady of Light must hold you in her esteem for she grieved so that you were gone. Elrond has sent me news by his swiftest messenger of the depths of her mourning for you."

Legolas snorted mentally, but kept his face courteous. I’ll just bet the good Master of Imladris has sent you news. Probably screaming at you to hurry and rescue him. I would love to get my hands on that letter. He must be in a proper panic by now with Galadriel in residence for so many weeks. Legolas had seen Galadriel in a rage several times over the last thousand years, and it was not a pretty sight. And few things so angered Galadriel as the loss of even one of her Galadhrim. No doubt the mighty lord of Imladris had had his hands full. Ai, Peredhil, your path has not been easy of late. Legolas smiled in deep satisfaction.

Legolas felt as did his father on this subject. Far better to ally their warriors with the Mad Witch of the Galadhrim than anyone else. She at least would mourn at their deaths and avenge them.

They were not so sure of that cold one in Imladris. For the Wood-Elves distrusted Master Elrond not a little. There was no passion in him that their eyes could see. Death and broken bodies seemed an abstract to him, a thing of books still for all that they knew he had fought himself in battles and bravely. And the death of Wood-Elves would be beneath his proud notice they were sure. He cared more for the lives of men, thought they, than for his woodland kin, and among the warriors of Thranduil was he known only and ever as the Peredhil.

To Galadriel, death was far too real, and she had seen too much of it to embrace it willingly for any of her own, and the Wood-Elves felt that in her eyes they were counted among her people, and their loyalty to her was great. To Imladris came they if their king commanded; to Lórien came they in love.

"My eyes long to look upon them once again and beg their forgiveness that I have failed in my duty to them."

Oh, here we go again. Haldir and his failed duty. How many times have I told him to get a grip? Legolas was about to have another go at it when Glorfindel’s words stopped him.

"Haldir o Lórien, listen to me and mark well my words. Your Lord and Lady so honor you that Galadriel has left her woodlands and gone forth into the battle to avenge you. And Celeborn has for his love of you left the side of his Lady and journeyed far to the realm of Thranduil. And in his personal guard, Lord Celeborn would have no other until first he had named Rúmil and Orophin, the brothers of Haldir. Say not that you have failed them, but rather that you have served them with honor and brought no shame upon the Galadhrim even unto your end. Haldir o Lórien, it is given to no warrior to know where his death or life may best serve his sovereign. You fought bravely and with honor where Ilúvatar placed you, and in your death there was no shame. It is enough. Lift up your head and take the gift that you have been given and serve yet again your Lord and Lady with the same courage as of old, for their love of you is great and will never falter."

Then did Haldir hear the words of Glorfindel, and they entered into his heart and lit a fire there that ever after burned bright in the service of those he loved, and he did lift his head and again was a warrior of the Galadhrim and unafraid. and of his path he was ever after sure. And in his heart did Haldir honor the great Glorfindel and serve him even as he served his Lord of the Galadhrim.

*****

BW was just starting to think that she must be getting the hang of this riding bit, when she felt her self sliding to the side again as her horse shyed at a leaf blown by the wind. She grabbed wildly for the mane and held it even tighter. Rúmil tightened the leading rope of hithlain that he had fashioned and fastened about her mount’s neck and brought the mare again under control. He and his brother Orophin had been charged with her safety and also set as a watch upon her, and thus they rode on either side of her and behind Lord Celeborn and Gil-Galad.

And behind these brothers followed riding a host of the Galadhrim with their great bows upon their backs and with them rode the same number of the Wood-Elves of the King Thranduil, sent to honor his son’s return and give him escort unto Imladris and there to protect him until he be returned to the shelter of his father’s house. For the darkness still lingered in the realm of Thranduil, and he left not his people without the protection of their king.

"My Lady, you would fare better with this horse if you but gripped more with your knees and less with your hands upon her mane. You frighten her thus."

"I’m trying, Rúmil, I truly am. It’d be a lot more help if you could find me a saddle and bridle at least rather than tell me to grip with my knees."

"The Galadhrim ride not with tack, my lady. Our horses would not tolerate it, and we would not bring such shame upon them." Rúmil knew that she was a foreigner and under the protection of his lord, but still he was shocked at her suggestion and spoke softly to her horse to bid for her pardon at the offense of her rider’s ignorance.

"But Gil-Galad has a bridle at least! Why not me?"

"That is a horse of Imladris which King Thranduil found wandering among his herds after the battles." The scorn in Rúmil’s voice was as a living thing, for he had spent many of his earliest years in the halls of Thranduil. "He returns this property now to the Master of that realm, and so it has a bridle that the Peredhil may know we stole nothing that was his. Gil-Galad, see you, uses it not." This is obviously a sensitive area BW, my girl, so don’t go there. Rúmil’s only resumed talking to you two days ago so be careful. BW often lectured herself. It gave her focus.

BW saw that Rúmil was right. The horses reins were knotted loosely on its neck, and Gil-Galad rode tall and straight with only Aeglos in his hands. BW had finally figured out who they meant when the elves spoke of Aeglos. It was that nasty looking spear that had conked her on her head when she was captured. BW was very sure that she did not approve of Aeglos.

Apparently, they all named their weapons in some sort of strange elven custom. She wondered what those horrific looking bows Rúmil and Orophin carried were called. They hadn’t volunteered the information, and she wasn’t sure it was polite to ask. You had to be careful about being courteous as she had discovered the hard way these days of travel. She had offended Rúmil early in the journey when she had asked him how long it took him to braid his hair in the morning, and he had not spoken to her for the rest of that day and the next, not until she gave him half of the berries she’d been alloted for her breakfast. She wondered also why each of the brothers carried two of the bows and two quivers, each with a different color to the fletching of the arrows within. Those bows really frightened her. They were taller than she was, and last night she had seen Orophin fire one and bring down a deer for the evening’s meal with but one arrow through the poor beast’s eye. The sound of the bowstring as it sent its arrow forth startled her, but even BW knew that the death had been merciful, and that the animal had in one moment and without fear simply ceased to exist. She remembered reading the capture and dissection report and wondered if the Wood-Elf had felt fear before he died. She rather expected he had and pushed the thought away.

"He doesn’t say much, does he?" She nodded towards Gil-Galad. Except when he had brought her down by crashing Aeglos into her head and then slung her roughly over his shoulder to bring her to Thranduil’s dungeon, Gil-Galad had ignored BW. She couldn’t even claim that he was discourteous. It was as if she simply didn’t exist to him. The Galadhrim and the Wood-Elves riding behind didn’t speak to her either, but she knew that each observed her with a watchful curiosity, and she had heard a few who seemed to laugh at her attempts to stay on the mare’s back. But, in fact, no one but Rúmil was talking to her at all, for Celeborn was much with Gil-Galad and discussed with him alone the Plan. Orophin would take his turn with the leading rope of her horse, but all his words were addressed to his brother, and he seldom even looked at her directly, although she knew he watched well that she be kept safe as Celeborn had decreed. BW felt very alone. They had been riding for days now, and nothing was at all familiar to her anymore. The terrain was not so mountainous as before and they were on a path that seemed more well traveled, but that’s about all she could tell. She was lonely, and so she had ventured to make a remark to Rúmil about the tall warrior who rode before them and listened to the words of Celeborn

Rúmil seemed inclined to speak with her for he was kind of heart, and he saw that she felt lost at times among them. "Gil-Galad keeps his counsel as he has had to do over the ages. And to you I doubt he would ever choose to speak for you are mortal and he, as most of us, has learned not to put trust in men." He looked at her with pity in his eyes. "Men are weak. They destroyed not evil when they had it in their grasp, and so have our lands long remained in shadow. In the Last Alliance, many elves died to bring down the evil of Sauron. The victory was within our grasp when the light of men failed, and evil yet lived. It is not easy for an elf to trust again in men, and thus it has been for all the years of my life and before. Haldir remembers still the Alliance, but I was too young as was Orophin."

"Who is Haldir? I keep hearing his name whispered at night when I should be sleeping."

She was not fated to hear a reply to her query for at that moment a soft cry, as if of a bird, came from the rear of the file. At once all the horses were stopped, and no sound came but for a soft whisper as each warrior bade his horse be still. Orophin moved closer to her mare, and his brother motioned for BW to be still. A small army of elves stood then in the quiet of the trees and beneath the grey of their cloaks they were hidden, and it seemed to the approaching party on the road that they were alone.

They were a rough and dangerous looking crew of men, at least thirty in number, maybe more. Dirty and clad in unmended clothing, they carried nets over their shoulders and clubs were in the hands of many and quivers were on their backs and long bows. And behind them, tied together and jerked brutally along if they faltered were four tall elves. BW heard a soft intake of breath from Orophin that might have been the sound of the wind to anyone who stood not next to him, for he saw that two of the captives were of the Galdhrim while the others wore the garments of the Woodland Realm. And suddenly BW knew that these rough men before her were among the poachers that came to prey upon the elves of all the woodlands, and she felt her stomach churn with anger. The bound elves were probably frightened, but they walked tall and proud despite their injuries and on their faces they gave no sign that they were prisoners for their spirits yet were free.

Suddenly, BW saw Celeborn raise his hand, and she saw the great bows of the elves raised silently and the arrows nocked against the strings. She saw the muscled arms of the brothers beside her smoothly draw back their bowstrings and still there was no noise that the poachers could hear. And then there was a great stillness that pressed in on her, and she heard the coarse swearing and foul calling of the poachers one to another. Then did Celeborn drop his hand and give the signal.

It was over in minutes, but BW would never forget the sound of the arrows flights through the dark night or the screaming and confusion of the poachers as they tried to flee.

The Wood-Elves and their brethern the Galadhrim had aimed to kill, and this they had done. The four bound elves still stood unmoving, tall and proud in the moonlight before her eyes. Yet now all around them lay the bodies of their captors, each with the many different colored fletchings of the arrows of the elves in their bodies, heads and throats.

She watched as Celeborn dropped lightly from his horse and strode to where the still dying bodies lay with Gil-Galad following after. The Lord of the Galdhrim bent down and lay his hand upon a grey and white fletched arrow lodged in the throat of one of the fallen. The man was dying but yet he breathed. With one fierce and graceful movement, Celeborn pulled the arrow from the man’s throat and watched impassively as the blood spurted and stained the earth of the forest, while Celeborn watched the man die. He nodded to Gil-Galad who cut the bonds of the captives. These elves stood quietly still and watched as the Lord of the Galadhrim spat upon the body lying before him, and they were satisfied in some small part of their hearts. Celeborn returned to where the two brothers stood with BW, and his great anger still burned in his eyes. He handed the bloodied arrow to Orophin, and his voice was cold and fierce. "You did well, brother of Haldir."

Orophin then took the arrow and held it and smiled at the blood upon it. And to his Lord did Orophin bow his head in tribute and touch the arrow to each of his own cheeks in turn, so that they were marked with the blood and death of his enemy that he had slain.

Then Celeborn turned and faced his warriors, the Wood-Elves and the Galadhrim standing together as of old.

"Let all retrieve their arrows and give comfort to our kinsmen who stand here among us once more free." His eyes were cold on the bodies before him. "Leave this carrion for the wolves."

And it was done as Celeborn commanded, and the elves who had been captives mounted double with those who had freed them and weapons were given unto them, and all were again made ready to ride forth. As he walked back past towards his horse, Celeborn saw the fright of the maiden before him, and in his pity spoke to her softly.

"They kill my people or carry them into torment and in them is no mercy and thus they rob me of mine."

Then Celeborn mounted and gave the signal to his warriors, and the company passed onward. And from behind them all heard the harsh calls of the crebain as they began their slow circles over the dead and dying.

*****

The campfires burned lower now and there was stillness and quiet except for the occasional murmur of voices speaking together among those who could not yet sleep.

BW was one of them. She leaned against the tree and felt miserable. She had no one to talk to, for Celeborn had relieved the brothers of their duty to her for this night and was himself no where to be seen. Gil-Galad watched in the brothers’ place. For a time the three elves had spoken softly together about many things but never the battle they had just won. She wondered if it was so easy for them to kill that they could talk now instead of the forests and the stars above them. She had questions but no one of whom she could ask for the elves did not include her in their conversation. At least, though, there had been words before to which she could listen. About an hour ago, the brothers had finally grown weary and lay down next to each other not too far from where she sat. She’d heard Gil-Galad bless their rest, and then he had grown silent once again and seemed not to move except when his hand would from time to time lift a cup of wine to his lips, and he would drink. She couldn’t sleep and she didn’t dare stare at Gil-Galad, so BW contented herself with watching the brothers sleep. They had started out side by side about a foot apart from each other but, when Orophin had grown restless in his sleep, Rúmil had put his arm around his sleeping brother and drawn him closer. Now, Orophin lay quiet with his head pillowed on his older brother’s chest, and both slept deeply. BW smiled at them in the darkness. I wonder if Orophin will ever say one word to me? I’d even settle for "get up, wench" at this point. At least then I’d feel as if I existed to him.

"You have eaten nothing of the food that was given to you." It was not a question but an accusation, and Gil-Galad crouched down so that his eyes would be more level to hers.

BW almost cried out she was so startled at suddenly being addressed by him. She hadn’t even heard him approach her. She looked into his eyes and was not as frightened as she expected to be although that was not saying too much. His eyes were dark and very stern. "I, I wasn’t hungry."

"You have ridden all day and will do the same tomorrow before we reach the appointed place. If you faint from hunger, it will delay us." He picked up the plate and handed it to her. "It is now cold, but you will eat it." Probably no good arguing with this one, my girl. Even Rúmil doesn’t really listen to you when you argue. You still end up doing what he says."

"Food is a gift. It is not to be squandered on the whim of elf or mortal. Ilúvatar let the deer be taken so that its spirit might nourish us on our journey and he has sent the fruit from his abundance. Do not lightly refuse them." He handed her a cup of wine. "Also, gave he the grapes from which this was made and you will drink of it. I shall keep watch and see that you do."

BW found herself eating and that she was very hungry after all. She felt her strength and courage returning just a bit and managed to look at Gil-Galad’s face. Of course, I guess he must be being polite, because he’s not really staring at me. I’d be toast if he were. It’s an oddly beautiful face, more angles and hardness than I’ve seen in the other elves but still beautiful. Must be in their contracts. Elves must be beautiful. Well, I guess it’s to late for me to get one of their lawyers to revise the terms of my own face. Nobody is ever going to call me beautiful. That didn’t bother BW too much. She was used to the quirky planes of her own face and even rather liked them. She took the piece of lembas that the warrior handed her and finished it as well. He looks pretty fierce though. Don’t think he laughs much. Even Celeborn laughs once in a while. She heard him when the mare had bolted with her that first day of the their journey. She’d been yelling and hanging on for dear life until Orophin tore after on his own horse and flung himself onto the mare to stop her. As she rode back behind an obviously disgusted Orophin, Celeborn had been laughing as if he could never stop. He’d given Rúmil the rope then to fashion the lead line for her. Celeborn. Suddenly BW remembered his face this afternoon as his hands grasped the arrow and pulled. She felt very sick and took a deep breath. Gil-Galad handed her another cup of wine, and she took it gratefully.

"Do you think Celeborn took pleasure in the death of those mortals?" Gil-Galad’s voice was low.

"He must have. He ripped that man’s throat out!"

"It was necessary that they die, but Celeborn loves not killing. He loves peace more than anyone I know. It has never been his fate to have it long. The man would have otherwise bled to death slowly while the crebain ate his flesh, and he knew it and felt their beaks. He died quickly from what Celeborn did." He looked at her. "Lie down and go to sleep. I shall keep watch over you."

Miserably, BW did as she was told and pulled the blanket over her. She could hear the quiet breathing of the brothers sleeping nearby and knew that the blood of his enemy was still dry upon Orophin’s cheeks. He had not washed it off, and none had told him to do so. She didn’t understand them at all. She never would.

As her breathing quieted finally, BW heard a voice say softly to her. "Life is not so simple as you would make it, and our choices often are clouded by uncertainty. Those four elves that were captured were from a group of twelve seeking the safety of Imladris. The mortals killed the others." The voice grew even softer as it continued as if speaking only to the night. "Three of those eight were children, the fourth a babe not more than six months old. The others were their fathers and mothers, and the mortals hacked their fathers to death as they sought with their own bodies to shield their children and their wives after all their arrows were spent. Only then did the men kill the children and the women. I shall not speak of how for you could not bear to hear it. The four who survived returned from their hunting to find their companions seemingly left dead by the road. As they tried to bury the children at least, despite all danger to themselves, the men returned, and they were taken. Celeborn has now returned with them and a group of his warriors, back to find their dead and lay them to rest this night. With his own hands will Celeborn bury the children, or I know him not at all. Think of that e’er you judge him, mortal." And Gil-Galad began to softly sing to himself, and she knew that he was mourning the loss of the children and their mothers and the fathers who died trying to save them and could not.

*****

Glorfindel had risen two hours before his elflings. He liked best the early morning hours when he was alone with the woodland creatures and his own thoughts. Somehow, when Legolas awoke, life for Glorfindel became fulll of the unexpected.

Already he had bathed in the cold water of the stream that led down to the Bruinen. He had dressed himself again in his leggings but his feet were still bare so that he could feel the grass beneath them and his tunic lay yet beside him. The feel of the warm sun on his back was good as he waited for it to dry his hair. He expected that Elrond would send a delegation to greet them and that Celeborn to honor his wife would array himself with all formalities observed. That meant only one thing to Glorfindel. Somehow, he would have to convince Legolas that his simple tunic would not do in Imladris. If he knew Thranduil, and he did, the king would send and expect his son to wear robes that would not be to the elfling’s liking.

He should have heard him approach, but Glorfindel was so preoccupied with strategy for his upcoming battle that he missed the sound of not just one, but two elves creeping up on him.

Instinctively, he jumped back just as they leaped upon him, but it was a second too late. Glorfindel fell beneath the combined force of Haldir and Legolas and wrestled them wildly. They were good, but he was better still and with a roar he finally threw them off and pinned them to the ground, one hand on Legolas and the other on Haldir in mock fury.

"You shall die now again and this time Námo will not be so generous I think!" They begged for mercy then, and he laughingly granted it and bade them rise. "I am too old an elf to be forced to start my day with such indignities. Go bathe yourselves in the stream while I recover." He watched them walk away towards the stream, and he smiled to have them safely back again.

*****

"Legolas you are going to be reasonable or I shall do something you will regret for a very long time." Glorfindel’s voice would have frightened an elf less stubborn than the one before him. Legolas just glared right back at him with mutiny in his eyes and an expression on his face that reminded Glorfindel all too clearly of Thranduil at his worst. He decided on a different approach. In battle, one selected tactics based upon the enemy at hand.

"Mellon nîn, you know it would please your father if you did his will in this. I will write and tell him how proudly you represented him." Glorfindel had seen Elrond use this tactic on Arwen with some success.

"Adar’s pleasure would last at best five minutes, and then he would forget and simply take my obedience as his due. You must offer me more, Glorfindil, or I shall ride to meet them just as I am."

Now, he understood. Legolas had something he desired from him and until he got it this war would have no end. Glorfindel wondered gloomily what sacrifice he was to be asked to make for the sake of peace and harmony and also to keep Thranduil from personally killing him when he found out that his son greeted the Peredhil in a travel-stained tunic. No, Glorfindel was sure that another balrog would be infinitely better than an angry Thranduil.

"What is it that you want, Legolas? Nay, do not try to look innocent with me. I have far too much experience with your father, and I have seen that gleam too often in his eyes. Let me hear your terms."

Legolas knew he had won then. "First, I want your word that you will never, ever refer to me or to Haldir as an ‘elfling’ again and if you slip we shall be allowed to punish you as we wish, even if it is to make you stand naked in front of your soldiers. That is the first thing."

"You would not dare!" Legolas smiled at the older elf, and suddenly Glorfindel was not so sure.

"Alright, I will agree to that term if only for the sake of Haldir, who is far nobler than you my spoiled prince. What is the second term?"

Legolas drew himself up but stepped back a few paces just to be safe. Glorfindel was a mighty warrior after all and the reach of his arms was long. Still, Legolas had learned the rules of engagement from Thranduil, and he was not afraid, just prudent.

"The second term is this, Glorfindel. I wish you to tell me and Haldir why you put bells on Asfaloth!"

Whatever Glorfindel had expected this was not it. For a moment he said nothing, and then he began to roar with laughter. He laughed until he was breathless and the tears streamed down his face. Legolas and Haldir found themselves laughing with him and suddenly Glorfindel put his arms about their shoulders and pulled the three of them to the ground where they continued to laugh until they were truly gasping for breath.

At last, when he could speak again, the great Glorfindel looked at the two of them and there was a gleam in his eye that they had never before seen. "If I tell you this deep secret, you must keep it from all, for if you speak then all will be spoiled, and I shall have no further joy in my life. Do you both swear?"

They lifted their hands to him and swore by all that they held dear and Glorfindel’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.

"I do it because it makes Elrond absolutely insane to hear them. When I ride by him, I make sure Asfaloth shakes his head, and I see the veins in Elrond’s neck start to swell, and it takes every ounce of his control not to kill me on the spot. He knows that in Lórien and your father’s realm it is whispered that the Great Glorfindel’s mind has been corrupted by his life in Imladris. He knows that all blame him, Elrond Peredhil, and there is nothing he can do or say about it to anyone. And, he knows that I know this as well, and that is the sweetest part of all." Glorfindel’s smile was like the sunshine, and they viewed him with deep awe at his brilliance. "Besides, Asfaloth likes the sound of them!"

*****

Celeborn needed no pomp or ceremony when he entered the camp of Glorfindel. He would leave that for when they crossed the ford. The sight of his old friend and the young ones returned would be all that he wished. So, he rode dressed simply as always in his plain tunic and wrapped himself in the grey cloak that Galadriel had woven for him with her own hands and pinned it at the neck with the brooch with which she had first pinned his cloak after their betrothal. He had told her then that it was the only ornament that he needed other than her love. Later, he would dress more properly to greet his Lady, and at the thought of Galadriel a great joy filled Celeborn’s heart.

Smiling, he dropped behind Gil-Galad so that he might ride the last few miles with the brothers of Haldir and their charge.

"These last miles are long ones, are they not, my brave ones?" He smiled at them and was proud of their bearing for, although an ineffable longing shone in their eyes, they still rode quiet and still as their brother had taught them, and Celeborn knew that whatever the desire of their hearts, they would attend him quietly and not even call out to their brother without his leave. Celeborn would not long withhold that permission, and he had purposely arranged this meeting with Glorfindel’s group to take place before they reached the borders of Elrond’s lands. "In truth, I can scarcely bear the longing to embrace him myself. You will grant your king one embrace before I give Haldir again to his brothers’ keeping?"

"We know he would never be content, my lord, unless he first greeted you, and we will gladly see it and bid you take as many embraces as you will."

"You and Orophin are generous as always with your treasure. Then, I shall let myself be a little greedy and hold him but a few moments before it comes your turn. Ride ahead now and see how generous you can be when Gil-Galad makes this same request to you. I promise it will be the last that you shall be asked to grant. So, ride and keep that old one company and see if you can yet get him to smile. I shall keep company with this lady in your place."

"Has anyone troubled to explain to you what will happen this day, my lady?" It was the first time since the attack that he had spoken to her. She had not seen his return in the night but woke to hear him still speaking low to Gil-Galad, and she had seen Gil-Galad’s arm lay on the shoulders of Celeborn for a moment as if to offer him the only comfort he could even as he knew it was too little.

"I know that we will meet an elven prince and that with him will be Rúmil and Orophin’s older brother and another warrior like Gil-Galad."

"Not quite like Gil-Galad, but just as renowned. You will like Glorfindel. All do, for he is fond of laughter and songs and, sadly, of jokes. He is a great torment to his friends at times, but you will like him, and he will take you under his great wings as he does all lost creatures. Go to him, lady, when you feel the rest of us are making you quite mad." He laughed at her amazement. "What has Rúmil told you of his brother?"

"Not much. Just that he and the prince were off fighting and had been in a land far from here and that he had returned at last and that they had missed him."

"Rúmil is wise beyond measure to describe things so simply. I should have made a big speech of it no doubt. It is a failing of elven lords as my wife would tell you." He smiled and BW found herself laughing.

"You have a wife?"

"Yes, and she is the greatest treasure that exists for me. Her name is Galadriel. You will meet her tonight for I doubt not that Master Elrond will have a feast ready to welcome us." He smiled at her sudden distress. "Calm yourself, dear lady, for my Galadriel will have appropriate clothing for you to wear and until you don it, I shall give you one of my own cloaks to cover yourself and you shall have no need to feel shame at your appearance."

"How did you know that was what bothered me?"

"I was not the father of a daughter for nothing. It oft took the combined efforts of Galadriel and myself to get Celebrían dressed to her satisfaction and her mother’s." His eyes softened at the memory of his daughter. "Will you permit a small liberty?" She nodded and, to her amazement, Celeborn leaned over and pulled the clip from her hair and released it upon her shoulders. "You will feel prettier if you wear it thus."

*****

Into the clearing rode the tallest elf BW had ever seen. To make things worse, he was seated upon the largest and scariest white horse that she had ever seen. The combination was so overpowering that she felt a mad urge to kick the mare’s sides and ride away quickly. Deciding that was probably a bad idea as she would only fall off and probably tear Celeborn’s cloak she held her ground. That has got to be Glorfindel or I’m a duck. Now which one is Haldir?

Beside the great elf were two younger elves, almost as blond but not quite as tall. One was dressed in the uniform of the Galadhrim who rode with Celeborn and the other in a tunic of dark greyed green with an intricate embroidery of leaves and vines. The one with the uniform must be Haldir, so that leaves the other as the prince. Prince of what I wonder? Nobody in this crowd is very good about necessary details. She watched as the Galadhrim warrior slipped down from his mount and walked toward them. Celeborn walked to meet him followed by Gil-Galad and the brothers of Haldir. The king and his warrior in turn each embraced Haldir.  Then Celeborn took from the two brothers the second bow that each had carried and kept in safety and with each its quiver and he handed these to Haldir and to Legolas and to Legolas gave he also his white knives that Celeborn himself had carried for him.  And, after he had done this, Celeborn turned and motioned to the brothers and released Haldir to them. BW found she was crying as she watched the arms of Haldir embrace both of his brothers at once and hold them as if he would never again release them.

"Well, I suggest we leave them to it. If I know the Galadhrim, it will be at least half an hour before anyone stops crying long enough to notice we’re gone. Gil-Galad will watch to see that none breaks the others neck accidently in all this embracing."

She was startled for she had not heard the great elf approach her as she watched the joyful reunion before her. Even on foot, he was far too tall she decided. He bowed to her and smiled.

"And you must be the lady of whom I have heard? The one who knows where New Zealand is? Master Elrond will be very, very glad to see you I assure you, for he and the Lady Galadriel have been most perplexed as to where New Zealand might be." The prince snorted. That was the only word for it, but Glorfindel did naught but smile sweetly at him. "And this one who finds he is suddenly coughing is Legolas, son of Thranduil, a prince of the Woodland Realm if you can believe it." The prince snorted again but recovered quickly and bowed his head to her correctly. "Now, you must excuse the prince, my lady, for he will have just the right amount of time to change his garments before we ride to meet the delegation from Imladris. And, if he does it not, I just may be forced to kill him.  And, Legolas, do not forget the robe of velvet that I am sure Thranduil has sent you."

Legolas face was dark but he bowed deeply to her and to Glorfindel and walked away. Lightly, Glorfindel touched the neck of the great horse standing beside him, and Asfaloth shook his head so that his silver bells made music in the woodland air. BW was sure she heard the sound of strangled laughter coming from behind her, but she dared not stare after the prince to see whether it might be he as she suspected.

*****

And they waited upon a small hill near banks of the Bruinen, just inside the realm of Elrond. Approaching them they saw the party that had come to escort them in honor unto Imladris.

Celeborn, Lord of Lórien, upon his grey horse that had been a gift of his Lady to bear him ever in safety, stood at their riding’s head. Beside him upon Arod of the Rohirrim waited Legolas, son of Thranduil and there in stead of the great king to whom he was beloved.

And both were clothed in all the splendor of their realms and upon their brows were the crowns that marked their station, the silver of Lórien and the simple braided vines of the Woodland that had ever marked its kings, done now in mithril and gold and gems as red as the berries of their woodland realm.

Gil-Galad and Glorfindel on their horses stood behind these lords, and the small silver bells of Asfaloth made music in the breezes.

And with them were Haldir and his brothers and the maiden they had carried safely through all dangers to this place.

Behind them stood in stillness the company of the Galadhrim and of the Wood-Elves who had ever stood as their friends, and in the forefront of their company rode still double with their comrades the captives who were now free.

At the head of those greeting them from Imladris rode the sons of Elrond. And, when Celeborn beheld them, his heart grew full of pride for his Lady had sent their grandsons to him clothed not in the fashion of Imladris but in the garments of the Galadhrim and upon their brows she had placed circlets of gold and silver fashioned in the shapes of the mellyrn leaves. And in the faces of Elladan and Elrohir saw Celeborn his daughter once again.

And at the side of the sons of Elrond came Aragorn, King Elessar as now he was and of the House of Telcontar, and behind him on his horse rode Gimli, son of Glóin, Lord of the Glittering Caves. And the eyes of Prince Legolas beheld them and were softened by his unshed tears as he rode slowly to meet them.

Chapter 5 - Imladris Redux

Elrond stretched his long legs out beneath his desk even as his arms reached upward as if they would trace the ceiling’s carved details with his thin fingers. Can it be true? She is gone. Yes, it is true! Celeborn has taken Galadriel out walking. A fine elf, Celeborn, ever mindful of his friends and knowledgeabe and quick to see that his wife grew wroth. And Glorfindel. Glorfindel has gone off to torment Erestor? I am almost sure of it. For he did have a look of wondrous joy on his face as he left me, and he was laughing softly. Alas, poor Erestor! Still, better Erestor than myself. Yes, life was indeed sweet to Elrond as he savored that, for the first time in well over a month, there was not a single blond elf in sight. No golden nor silver nor wheat nor even honey tresses were to be seen. Elrond smiled in deep satisfaction.

"Is she always so. . .intense?"

That Elrond was brave would not be gainsaid by even his enemies. To say that he fought well at Dagorlad was also a given, for he had looked into the face of Sauron himself and not quailed and had served Gil-Galad even unto that brave warrior’s fall and beyond.

Still, right now and at this moment, to say that Elrond almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of BW’s unexpected voice was also too true. For once New Zealand had been discussed and roughly plotted so that his cartographers could draw the necessary maps, in truth, Elrond had forgotten the maiden’s presence.

Excuse might be made for him perhaps because of the arrival of the escorts with their honored guests. Then Glorfindel’s and Celeborn’s reports had absorbed him. And Gil-Galad’s presence yet again after all these years! And Thranduil’s son in full princely regalia (which sight for some reason made Elrond more than a little nervous) and Galadriel’s wrath at the news of the poachers added to all. All of these things had made it quite easy for Elrond to forget one rather plain maiden who was doing her very best to keep a low profile in the corner seat of his library.

"I beg your pardon? Elrond might be startled, but his self-control was great and his voice cool and steady. "Of whom do you speak, my lady?"

"The tall blonde one. You know, Lord Celeborn’s wife."

Interesting way to describe Galadriel. Lord Celeborn’s wife. None of this the "Lady of Light" for this young one. If she continues thus as she begins, will she live to grow old? Lord Celeborn’s wife!

"The Lady Galadriel is wroth at what has been done to her kin as are we all." Elrond bowed his head in reverent thought of the fallen children that Celeborn’s own hands had so recently buried. Tears brightened his eyes although his will forbade them to fall, and his heart ached within his breast, for Elrond loved children above all else.

They will think me cold and will embrace Galadriel in love as she openly weeps with them. I have not her skill in loving openly. So much pain in my own heart, and yet I know not how to share it with them, and so they will think me cold, and perhaps they will be right. Perhaps there is no love in my heart. If so, why then does that cold heart hurt me so now, and why will, in the deep reaches of the night, no sleep find me as I weep alone for these children lost to us?

 "She was present at the birthing of most of the children who are gone, and she grieves. Judge her not harshly, my lady."

"I do not judge her at all. Gil-Galad has taught me to be slow to do that. Still, I think she does frighten me a little."

"You are in her favor with your knowledge of New Zealand, and I believe you have naught to fear from her, especially as Celeborn speaks well of you." Says you’re smart but can’t ride a horse to save your life, and that Orophin has been heard muttering about resigning if he has to ride after you one more time. "Your chambers are to your liking? I asked my daughter to keep yours near her own for I fear Imladris is confusing, and oft do new guests lose their paths here. Arwen has promised to be your guide."

"She’s been lovely! I didn’t know she was your daughter for she was so warm and friendly."

And I, of course, am none of that! Galadriel seems to have yet another ally in her thinking. Still, the maiden is mortal and appears not to know that she has just given offense. Now, an elf would have made sure that the offense was intentional, and that I knew it. And they wonder and murmur and say that I prefer mortals to my own kind? One should be grateful, I suppose, that in their hearts they even deem me their kind, what with all this "Peredhil" that they ever name me.

"Yes, she is my youngest child. Her twin brothers are not yet returned to Imladris from their duties but perhaps you shall meet them e’er you sail." He was about to make further courteous inquiry after her comfort when he was interrupted by the door of the library bursting open and the sight of his daughter flying through it and straight into his arms.

"Adar! You must know! Glorfindel sent me ahead to bring you word. Aragorn seeks Legolas to bring him here lest the shock be too much for him."

Her wildness startled Elrond, for normally his daughter remembered well the lessons of her mother and moved quietly and gently through the public places of Imladris. He caught her close against his chest and soothed her.

"Hush, then, and speak these words that you were sent to deliver. Has harm befallen someone that you fly to me in such alarm?"

"Nay, my father, it is an unlooked for coming, one that has long been past all our hopes, and now he is come back from the wilderness where he sought his brother for so long."

"Can it be? Speak, child, for I dare not let my heart hope at your words. Speak and quickly!"

Taking a deep breath, Arwen withdrew from her father’s arms and bowed to him as was her duty and yet also her joy.

"My lord Elrond, Gilúviel hath returned. Glorfindel and I walked in the gardens before the gates and saw him ride through. At our appearance, he stopped his horse and began to dismount. So weary was he, though, that his legs could not hold him erect, and he fell senseless at our feet. Glorfindel carries him here that you may judge if he be injured as well as exhausted."

Gilúviel! That child indeed has Ilúvatar’s favor if this be true, for even Thranduil had ceased to hope to see his son again and wept bitterly that he had sent the second son to find the first and so lost them both. None had yet been brave enough to tell Legolas that his brother waited not for him in their father’s house, and his constant joy at the prospect of their reunion had been a reproach to them all and had so angered Gil-Galad that he had written to Elrond that he himself would end this cruelty of false hope when he returned from the Havens. And now, Gilúviel. . .

Elrond’s thoughts were stilled as Glorfindel entered the room, bending as ever his head beneath the lintel of the great door that even so was too low for his height. In his strong arms, he cradled as tenderly as a child an elf clad in torn and travel-stained garments of the Woodland Realm. So deathly pale and still was Glorfindel’s burden that Elrond’s heart misgave him even as he reached for his healing bag. Only the raven hair that spilled over Glorfindel’s arm seemed to be yet alive as it shone softly in the candles of the room.

"Lay him upon the couch and remove his tunic but be gentle for I fear that there may be hidden wounds." Glorfindel did as Elrond bade him and helped Arwen carefully cut open the tunic and take it from the slender form. Elrond knelt beside the couch then and began to probe the body he had known since its childhood scrapes had been brought to him for healing and wise words as to how to best preserve the dark elfling from the mad adventures that sprang ever from the blond head of his brother. The words Elrond knew had never been heeded, for whither Legolas would go, there also went Gilúviel and what one would venture, the other must also try. "There are wounds but they are not new and are healing cleanly. The bruising is recent, perhaps today but no further back than yesterday." Elrond rose again to his feet and looked down at the young elf with grave concern still lingering in his eyes, for he did not like this dreadful stillness even as his fingers had probed where they must hurt. "We must keep watch until we know whether it is merely weariness that has brought him so low or some fell and unseen wound."

"Ai, Gilúviel, give him to me and hold me not!" With a wild cry, Legolas tore himself from Aragorn’s strong grasp and flew to his brother’s side. No one had time to stop him, for so intent were they on caring for the dark elf that none had heard the approach of the fair.

Legolas knelt and gently covered Gilúviel’s still form with his arms and hair as he bent to kiss the bare flesh beneath him and bathe it with his anguished tears. For on their journey from the archery fields back to Imladris, Aragorn had had no choice save to tell Legolas quickly and roughly of the long and perilous journey undertaken by Gilúviel to seek his brother’s freedom or to bring his body back to their father. Never would Aragorn forget the fear that had filled his friend’s eyes as he began to run back to Elrond’s home.

That Legolas’ grief was so silent frightened Aragorn most for, save for that one cry as he freed himself, the elf made no sound with his weeping and moved not at all except for the soft kissing of Gilúviel’s bruised and torn flesh again and again. Aragorn was grateful when Glorfindel’s strong hands lifted Legolas’ from his knees and pulled him erect, holding him against his own strong chest and letting him continue to weep silently as Glorfindel held him.

"Hush, Legolas, let Elrond do his work and soon your brother will be back among us and laughing at you for your fears. He has not come so far to find you that Master Elrond would let him slip from your grasp at the last. You know how stubborn the Peredhil can be!" Glorfindel smiled at the raised eyebrow that Elrond directed at him and continued to rub Legolas’ back as gently as any mother with her frightened babe. Somehow the Peredhil himself drew comfort from his old friend’s confidence in his skills. He bent to his work and hoped that that confidence was justified.

*****

"Come, dear lady, for my father has left, and we shall creep into the room and see with our own eyes that Gilúviel is better." BW felt Arwen’s warm hand grasping her own as she led her with great quiet down the halls of Imladris. Something in Arwen’s voice told her that this daughter of Elrond was now lacking in courage and needed her friend’s support to enter the chamber where all her fears lay in the healer’s keeping. "Fain would I behold Gilúviel for he has been my friend since childhood and ever my protector, and I do so love him that my heart can scarce believe yet that he has returned among us. How my soul wept for him when I thought he would ne’er return and in my dreams beheld his torn body as it lay alone in some fell land!"

"But he has returned, Arwen, and your father is a great healer. Surely, he will keep safe one who seems so precious to all!"

"Think you so? I tell myself that this is true, and yet still I fear. BW, thou must not leave me alone until we know!"

"I shall be at your side, Arwen, but he will be alright. I believe in Master Elrond’s powers to heal!" The grateful squeeze of her hand by Arwen was her only answer, and together the maidens crept down the long hallway to Legolas’ chambers, for there they had brought his brother for healing as the place that he was most loved and so would best strengthen.

Softly they entered the chambers of Legolas and without knocking, for Arwen knew the prince as her brother and feared him not. Her breath caught as she beheld the two she had so long known, and tears filled her eyes at the aching sadness that lay before her.

For Legolas lay with his back propped against the carved headboard of his bed and in his arms he cradled Gilúviel, his brother. The dark elf slept yet with his face pressed into the soft pillow of his brother’s body, and his black hair covered his face and spilled upon the embroidery of Legolas’ night tunic, so that its ebony threads mingled with those of gold and mithril and shamed them with their dark beauty. Legolas smiled at them and placed his finger to his lips.

"Hush, for he sleeps still and long have I labored this night to give him rest, for his fever burned unto the early morning’s first pale thrustings against the darkness and only then was broken. Arwen, your coming gladdens my heart for we have known one another since childhood, and my Gilúviel would gladly have his sister’s lips greet his own. Watch you with your maiden yet but a little for soon he will wake, as even now he stirs and clutches at my body and hides his face against it as if to hold back the morn."

Legolas smiled and softly bent to kiss the cheek of his sleeping brother. "Ever has he done that as we slept together all the years of our growing and ever in one bed despite Adar’s attempts to tell us that princes slept apart from each other and were brave alone. In this matter only was Adar’s will ever thwarted, for none could separate us, not even Thranduil the Ferocious."

As if hearing the name of his beloved father, Gilúviel stirred and felt the soft light of morning enter into him. Yet still half wakened, he sensed that he no longer journeyed nor was he afraid, for beneath his cheek were not the sharp stones of the wayside but a soft pillow of flesh whose scent his very being knew, and Gilúviel sighed and breathed deeply the scent of his brother and let go the burden of his fear that for so long he had carried.

And Legolas felt this sundering of the shadow from his brother, and his own heart he lifted up and gave thanks to Ilúvatar for the gift of his brother again beside him.

"Legolas, you are not a dream? I have dreamed dreams so oft and yet woke alone."

"I am not a dream, my brother, and ne’er will we be parted again. This I promise you, for no greater love have I in me than what I bear for you, and the time of our separation has been too sorrowful almost to endure."

"Aye, brother, for ever did I feel that more than half of me was not present if I saw not your face nor heard your voice in any day. Never be so far from me again!" Then did Gilúviel bury his face in the body of his brother, and his slender arms held on fiercely to the loved flesh as if to defy all of Mordor to take it from him yet again.

"Ai, Gilúviel, ever were your bowman’s arms stronger than even mine! Would you tear your brother’s body asunder with the greatness of your love for him? Let me breathe, my dear one, and rise and turn your face to greet our Arwen, for she has crept early from her bed and would hold you even as I do."

And the dark elf sat up then and beheld his adopted sister and stretched out his long arms to her with great joy. And she wept as she flew to the shelter of those arms, but the tears were of joy this time, and none tried to stem their flow as both brothers embraced her and buried their faces in her beautiful hair and kissed her again and again amid their mingled tears and laughter.

At last did Arwen release her fears from her heart and dry her tears as she nestled in the strong arms of Gilúviel and with Legolas beside them. Only then did she remember her that her friend she had abandoned in the first rush of joy at this reunion, and her eyes sought the far dark corner of the room where BW had retreated to allow the elves the comfort of each other.

"My lady! Come forth and join us, for here there is great joy and I would share it with the loyal friend who has supported me in my night of anxious waiting. Come and know two of my brothers, for Gilúviel who was lost to us is now found." Arwen held out her hand to her friend and beckoned that she should approach the bed.

As the maiden left the shadows to do her friend’s bidding, the dark elf shook back his hair and turned to face her and then did BW hear the sharp intake of his breath as he first beheld her clearly and she him.

She felt the world before her growing dim as it suddenly seemed to swirl out of control before her, and she tried desperately to focus her eyes against what she thought she saw and yet could not believe. She stretched out her hand to him and tried to walk the short distance between them and could not. Her voice was soft and broken as she gasped aloud, "Zippy!"

Then did darkness fall upon her, and the maiden BW fell to the floor.

*****

"You are truly not dead?" BW looked up into the serious faces bending down over her and realized that she was now in the same bed with the two elven brothers and Arwen. Her head was pillowed on Arwen’s lap, and she felt the cool hands of her friend stroking her hair, but she had eyes only for the dark elf who was holding her own hand very gently.

"Nay, I am not dead, nor even close if Lord Elrond is to be believed. I was overcome by the sun and old wounds and my lack of food and weariness, but he tells me that indeed I am not dead. I need only rest Elrond tells me and to eat more than I want. Not such a bad thing, and I am glad I am not dead. And what of yourself? Are you dead, my lady?" He grinned at her, and she wanted to grin back, but somehow her whole body seemed too confused to obey her simplest commands.

"You can talk."

He laughed at that and stroked her hand. "Aye, and I thank you for finally noticing after well over a year, nay, almost two. However, you were very funny with all those gestures you used to communicate with us. Oft it was all we could do not to fall down laughing at your attempts."

BW had the grace to cringe inwardly at the arrogance of the research team that had assumed that Phoebos, BandAid, Zippy and the other elves they studied were lower beings and without language. She tried to hide her red face against Arwen, but the dark elf took her chin firmly in his fingers and made her look at him.

"It was very funny, and you were kind to all of us, so we forgave you at least. The others. . ." He shrugged elegantly. "The others mattered not."

"I was sure the poachers had taken you for I did come back and try and find some trace of you on my own, but there was none."

"Nay, the poachers did not take me although they came at last." He lowered his eyes for a moment and seemed uncertain how to proceed. Softly he spoke the words as if he was loathe that she hear them, "my lady, BandAid they killed."

"Not BandAid! Oh, Zippy, he was so gentle!" Tears spilled down her cheeks at the memory of the lunatic young elf bedecked in bandaids and hanging from his knees from a tree branch, so that she scrambled to take frantic field notes of his aberrant behavior, even as she now knew he laughed at her then with great fondness.

"Aye, he was gentle, and he trusted too easily in men. Lady, his name was Culviénen, and he was my friend." The dark elf’s head was lowered and his voice soft. "He lured them away from me and saved my life although then I knew it not. He resisted them to buy me time to give warning to the palace, and so he died hard. They hewed him to pieces in their anger and drunkeness. When I learned of it, I returned with Thranduil’s warriors, and we killed them all the next night and buried my friend quickly so that his mother might not see what they had done to her son. Then did Thranduil send me to Galadriel for safekeeping for he knew that they would seek revenge on me. With Legolas away with the Ringbearer and Culviénen slain, it mattered not to me where I stood to die, and I did obey my father. In the war, I fought with the Galadhrim as oft we do. I thought not to survive the fierce battles of the Golden Wood, but I was cursed to return to my emptiness with only the smallest hope that my brother might yet live. Ai, it is no matter what befell me after the loss of this gentle one and my brother. Culviénen’s mother turned her face from us at his death, and she gave herself to grief and was lost to us who loved her, for he was the last child of her husband’s loins left to comfort her. All are now gone before me. All those fair brothers, and yet I remain."

And still BW cried for Culviénen and would not be comforted by Arwen’s soft words. Gilúviel suddenly pulled her up into his arms and held her almost fiercely and stroked her hair and gradually her sobbing grew quieter. "Lady, it is good that you mourn him, for he cared for you as did we all. You were different from the others, and we knew it. Still, he would not have you make yourself sick with weeping, for you know full well how he loved laughter most of all. Laugh for him instead of weeping when next you feel the sun upon you or the cool breeze through the trees and remember his gentle ways and all those sticky things you gave him that he would then paste all over the rest of us to our great annoyance. He would like that better than your tears, my lady. Did you know that he was the one who dared Phoebus to ride the spider?" She shook her head, and a small smile came through the tears.

"I always thought it was you."

"Aye, your BandAid was ever innocent to you!" He laughed and then grew still. To her surprise, he suddenly kissed her cheek. "That was for him. He always dared me to kiss you, and I always refused. I hope that in Mandos he can see that at last I have found my courage. I miss him, my lady." He sighed. "In truth, I have missed you as well if that matters to you at all."

"It matters, Zippy. It matters more than you ever will know."

*****

Elrond had decreed a week of rest in bed for Gilúviel, with nourishing food and quiet and perhaps the company of his brother. That would make him strong again declared the healer, and all listened gravely to his words and nodded at his wisdom.

And so it came to pass that the chambers of Legolas became a scene of utter chaos, for all gathered there to attend the sufferer, or so they said, and there they did lay the plans that must needs be put into effect for their revenge. And instead of quiet and Legolas, came Gimli the Dwarf and Aragorn and Arwen and the fair brothers of the Galadhrim with their lord and lady and Glorfindel to attend them. And the Peredhil did despair for his patient, for if he found not Arwen at the foot of the bed laughing loudly and snorting at Aragorn’s terrible jokes, then in her place would be the tall lady of the Galadhrim, deep in discussion with Legolas and chewing thoughtfully upon her quill as she wrote down their Plan as she sat cross-legged upon the bed. Indeed, the only quiet one that Elrond could ever see was the small maiden BW, who ever sat upon the bed beside Gilúviel and regularly handed him the strengthening tonics that the healer gave her for him and made sure that his lunch fell not to the depredations of the preoccupied blond elf and the dwarf, who ever plotted as they sat alongside Gilúviel’s other side, often coming close to blows as they discussed who should have the honor of first smiting the dissection team.

Elrond thought often to ban all from the sick chambers, but then he would regard Galadriel’s face as she chewed her quill, and his heart would misgive him to speak words she would not like to hear. And Elrond called himself a coward many times, but he also noted that Gilúviel did strengthen almost because of the chaos rather than in spite of it. As long as Legolas and the maiden were beside him, it seemed that Gilúviel grew strong and often did his laugh ring out in the chambers and make all smile at his mirth and wild suggestions of revenge.

Amid the usual chaos that afternoon, Elrond loosened the robe from his patient and did probe with his long fingers the hurts that still remained. And then did Galadriel thrust her chewed quill quickly into Celeborn’s hands and with her own fair, if ink-stained, fingers bring her healing strength also to Gilúviel and coupled it willingly with the strength of the Peredhil. And Elrond did welcome this, for, despite all that lay between them, each acknowledged the other’s skill as a healer and both did love the gentle elf they tended. And as he tended his patient with the lady Elrond did listen to the discussions about him, for he knew that time grew short, and the letter to be sent to the fell institute had yet to be written, and that this troubled both Celeborn and Glorfindel who saw its import to all the Plan.

For the first time since he had known her, Elrond suspected that his quiet maiden was waxing wroth, for he saw BW blow a stray lock of her hair from her face and glare at Aragorn. Without thinking, Elrond settled himself on the bed beside Galadriel to watch what must ensue, and so intent was he that Elrond noted not even the graceful arch of the Lady’s eyebrow as his robe brushed against her thigh.

"What is the meaning of your words? It is a fair piece of writing and yet you say it will not do?" Aragorn’s hand crept towards Andúril, and his hand was upon the great sword e’re Legolas managed to kick his ankle discreetly with his light elven foot. Then came it again to Aragorn that, despite the strangeness of her speech, here was a maiden and, as such, subject to his protection. He released Andúril and glared back at BW instead and stalked away from his elven brother and closer to the table where sat the lady Arwen with his parchment in hand as she read it to those assembled. Aragorn liked it not to be kicked, even by light elven foot, as he deemed it beneath the dignity of a king of the reunited lands.

"Aragorn, I am not trying to get on your bad side. Believe me, I don’t want to be on the bad side of anyone who carries around Andúril. It’s just that if we write it the way you have it here, they will not set foot in Taur-E-Ndaedelos. Even with that pile of gold and jewels Thranduil’s sent along, the Board of Directors is not that stupid, pretty stupid but not that much."

His kingly pride assuaged by her tribute to Andúril, Aragorn decided to listen to reason. Besides, Legolas would be upset if his plan failed, and an upset elf was a thing not to be contemplated even by Elessar the King. He grunted.

"I shall take that as your consent that BW shall write this missive, my brother?" As usual, neither had heard the blond elf approach and, also as usual, BW almost jumped out of her skin when he suddenly spoke. "This lady was long held prisoner by these foul creatures, and a taste for revenge is in her mouth. Yet her mind is as subtle as an Istar, and she shall not fail to write our message so that it bring success, and then shall Gandalf find means to deliver it as he has promised. Trust her, Aragorn, even as you have always trusted me. And she shall abide here with Gilúviel this night, and he will help her, for do we not all know that our brother is a temperate elf and wise beyond his years? Come let us all leave them to their work, for all must be ready e’er many more days are spent. Gimli, I shall share your quarters tonight so that these two may worked undisturbed?" The dwarf grunted his assent and trudged before them at his own measured pace.

BW had to hand it to the elf. He knew which strings to pull on Aragorn, and he certainly could manage his motley host of avengers. She watched as the prince and the king walked off together, proud and tall and each worthy of his people. To her amazement, all the company followed meekly, and she was left alone with Gilúviel for the very first time. She felt that his eyes were upon her with such trust that she could accomplish this great task, that BW’s heart lifted and grew strong. Then she sat down at the desk of Legolas and began to write, and the candles Gilúviel lit for her burned long into the night and before the morning it was done.

And when he had read it aloud did Gilúviel laugh at the subtle skill of his maiden’s words, and he set the letter carefully upon the desk, for on the morrow they would bring it unto Elrond who would then send it on to Gandalf, or so they thought. Quietly, he snuffed the candles with his fingers and drew her to him, and he looked upon her face in the moonlight through his window. His eyes spoke what his voice could not, and at that moment did the maiden know that the dark elf loved her even as she did him. Holding her arms up to him, she let him gather her up and carry her into his bed, and there did they know one another and become one.

*****

She was gone now. Gilúviel knew that for he had sent her away himself long before Imladris began to stir and awaken to the morning. Her honor must he protect and her name, and so he had sent her away even as he ached for her closeness. He could smell her still on the sheets and still feel her warmth there. He burrowed his body deep into the place where she had slept in his arms and drank in her fragrance. What they had done was against all propriety and must never happen again until they were wed, but somehow he could not bring himself to regret it. He loved her so much, and he knew not if he would live long enough to be her husband. Times were perilous and despite their brave jests he knew that what he did soon for his brother might well bring his own death and even hers. And so he prayed to Ilúvatar for forgiveness that he and his beloved had stolen one night of their marriage before even it was proclaimed.

"So, did you finish the letter?" Legolas perched on the end of the bed and stared at his brother with curious eyes; for the dark elf had groaned at the sound of his voice, and that had never happened before.

"Do you ever knock?"

"Why should I knock? It is my bed chamber after all, and only you are here. I never saw the need."

"It would still be the courteous thing to do, brother." Gilúviel groaned softly again, but in resignation he also moved over in the bed for he knew his brother all too well. "She finished the letter, and it is all that we could wish. However, you will not read it now for I have no desire to be awake yet, so please do not throw open the shutters to Anar merely because you are awake."

As he expected, Legolas soon crawled under the blanket beside him for the room was chill, and ever had his brother hated to be cold in the morning. "Do not put those cold feet against me, Legolas, for I am not wearing a tunic and may have to kill you if you do."

"So I noticed. Why?" Stealthily he worked his feet against his brother’s calves and warmed them when Gilúviel made no real move to kill him and instead drew him closer in his arms and kissed the nape of Legolas neck underneath the unbound golden hair.

"Why what?"

"Why aren’t you wearing a tunic? It’s very cold this morning."

"I grew warm and threw it off. Is that allowed yet, my brother?"

"It is allowed, but you are lying to me, and that you have never done before. Are you well, Gilúviel?"

"I am more than well, but you are right that I have lied to you. Nay, do not wrinkle your nose so, for I know that I smell differently than I normally do." Gilúviel laughed and kissed his brother’s shoulder in resignation. "I lay with the maiden last night, and thus I wear no tunic. Are you happy now that you know my deepest secret?"

"You and BW? How can this be?"

"How can it not be? I love her, my brother." He sighed and shook his head in sadness. "You need not tell me that what I have done is wrong. I who love her most have yet dishonored her. Oh, brother! What have I done?"

"I dare say you have made her very happy. She loves you?"

"Aye, can you believe that?"

"More than I can believe that you love her. Oh, don’t take offense, for you should know what I mean. She is a mortal, brother, and you are an elf. Do you not see the heartache this will bring you?" Having started, Legolas continued despite the hurt he knew he must be doing to his brother. "She will grow old, sicken and die on you, and still you will love her, and it will break your heart, Gilúviel. I cannot bear that for you. I love you too much!"

"It is too late, my Legolas, for I do love her, and that I cannot change any more than I could stop loving you. Do not be angry with me for I could not bear that. It would kill me, Legolas."

"Put on your tunic, dark one, for with your luck Arwen will be the next to visit this room, and then what should we say?"

"We?" With an exasperated sigh, Legolas pulled the night tunic over his brother’s head and helped him slide into it

"Yes, we. You know I have no path open to me but to support your choice no matter how much my heart misgives me. I shall keep your secret, my brother."

Gilúviel laughed then and pulled his brother close to him. "You must do other things for me, my prince. Shall we discuss them?"

"No! You cannot ask me to do such a thing as I see in your mind."

"Who then, my prince? Adar? He is far distant from us, even if I were brave enough to ask him. Nay, brother, it is to my prince that I must come and beg that he will betroth me to my love."

"It is not the right time. I have so much to do right now, Gilúviel, with all this preparation for the quest. Brother, we are to leave in but four days!"

"I know this, my prince. Yes, you are right. I beg your pardon for troubling you with my own concerns at this time of great peril. It is just that, if I am fated to die in your service. . ."

"You are NOT going to die in my service! As your prince, I absolutely forbid it, Gilúviel! You are my childhood friend and my brother, the one whom my father fostered when his captain and only true friend was slain and your mother gave up her own body to her grief. My mother’s breasts suckled you even as they did me. I FORBID you to get killed on this quest, understand?" Fiercely did Legolas grip his brother’s shoulders, and on his face were the tears of his own terror that he might lose this one whom he so loved.

"Yes, my lord, I shall obey you as always."

"See that you do and stop calling me ‘my lord’ all the time. Unless Adar is within hearing distance, my name is Legolas and you will use it." Stupid git. He does this ‘my lord’ bit to annoy me. Can he truly love this maiden? She is not of our kind and, if truth be told, she is rather plain. Nay, I must not say this thought to him for I look into those great dark eyes, and I do know that he loves and will never love another. How can this be, my brother? You are the quiet one, the dutiful son that I can never be to our father. How is it that you have the courage to challenge his will in this as I should never dare? He has put so much thought into your betrothal and that the elven maiden be of the best family, for he knew that you were his biddable son and would accept his choice and give him the grandchildren that would be all that he sought. Now, you ask that I tell our father that you have chosen this mortal, and that I have given my consent to it?

"You do truly love her?"

"I love her, Legolas."

Ai! Look at those eyes of his that he has turned upon me. So seldom has he ever asked a thing of me even when I sought to find something to do to give him pleasure. Always he said that all his pleasure that he needed was in being my brother. How can I not do this thing? His great heart will truly break if I deny him this. But, what of my own heart? Can I watch what will happen to him when she dies? Can I be that brave?

"Adar will kill me. You know this, brother."

"Nay, he loves you too much despite his oaths and strong words." Gilúviel smiled at Legolas. "And, if I be wrong on this, you well know that I shall throw my body over yours to shield you from his sword, and thus we shall die together even as we have lived."

"Aye, so he will kill us both then?" Legolas touched his brother’s face with his slender fingers. "If I must die again, it will not be so bad this time if it be for love of you. I will betroth you, my brother, and we shall travel together to Mandos when Adar kills us both. I know a few there who may yet help us."

And Legolas beheld the beauty of his brother’s love unto the maiden, and his sorrow lifted, and then the two brothers began to laugh at the thought of the road that lay now before them and the terrible wrath of their father that soon they must face.

*****

"There are times, Celeborn, when I have thought that Elrond reserves these chambers for our use because they are furthest from his own."

"Could this be, Galadriel? I am troubled that I am thought such a troll by Elrond that I must be isolated from his society." He paused in his task of toweling his body after his bath and gazed at his wife. She laughed suddenly and threw his long night tunic at him.

"Cover yourself, husband, for you are entirely too distracting tonight, and I need to speak with you."

He picked up the tunic and regarded it gravely. "Think you that this soft garment embroidered by your own hands will put an end to distraction? The feel of it against my skin has always been a constant reminder to me of your hands." Quickly, he pulled the tunic over his head and let her button the last fastenings for him. His mind noted carefully that not all the buttons quite reached their proper homes, but he said nothing.

"What is it, my love?" Celeborn crawled into their bed and, propped against the pillows, waited for her to sit opposite him on the foot of the bed, for thus did they ever conduct the most serious of their discussions. It had always been important to her to face him at such times and see his eyes. He smiled and, because the room grew cool, carefully covered her feet with part of the coverlet. "You have my full attention, my lady."

"Celeborn, I have hurt Arwen." Galadriel’s voice was soft and sorrowful.

"Yes, I know that you have, and it grieves me."

"You did not stop me?"

"You are not mine to command as some servant."

"You know that for love of you all that I do may be commanded."

"I know this. For this reason, if no other, no command shall you ever hear from me. I would have Galadriel as she is and not as one subject to my commands." He smiled and took her hand gently in both his and kissed it. "Besides, I knew that you would find the way on your own."

"Tell me what to do, Celeborn, not as a command but because I have lost my way, and I need your guidance."

"If you ask this of me, you must not complain of the words you may hear."

"I will not complain, my lord."

"Then I say to the one who is the heart of my existence that you must forgive Elrond and let our granddaughter see that you have done this." He felt his wife tremble at his words, but he did not waiver. "She will have so much to bear, Galadriel. Would you let this also be among her burdens that you whom she so loves be at enmity with her father?"

"He took not enough care of our daughter, Celeborn!" Her voice was harsh, and still he waivered not in his purpose.

"Elrond bears no guilt that Celebrían loved him, unless you would count that I carry that same guilt for the love you bear me, Galadriel. Could I have stopped you loving me in Doriath those long years ago?"

"You know that you could not have done so."

"And Elrond is more powerful than I am? He had but to say the word, and Celebrían would have ceased to love him?"

"He took her so far from us who loved her."

"And I did not lead you far from where we first met? Galadriel, you know the truth. It was not Elrond’s fault. Can you not forgive him?"

"I do not know, Celeborn, I do not know."

"Have you the strength to try?"

She shook her hair forward to cover her face from his gaze, but he brushed it back and made her face him.

"He did not care, Celeborn. He let her sail and ever his gaze was cold and his face not wet with tears. You and I wept bitter tears, Celeborn. Elrond raised his hand to her in farewell." The anger and scorn in her voice was as a living thing. "His life went on as before!"

"And this you know and do not doubt?"

"I know it, and I cannot forgive!"

"Then I have kept silence too long. You will listen to me, Galadriel?"

"Aye, my lord, for ever have I done so and never regretted it."

"The night of the day our daughter left us, remember you how you spent it?"

"With Elladan and Elrohir and with Arwen who ne’er ceased her weeping. All that night we held to each other and our grief."

"And where was I?" That question did startle her, and she looked at him with her clear eyes that now were so troubled.

"Ever have you fought sorrow alone, my husband, even when I would share it with you and lift your burden. I have always thought you were in your chambers, and there did wrestle with your grief."

"I was in my chambers, Galadriel, but I was not alone. Elrond came to me there as one who was lost. All day he had sought to be strong, so that his children should not be frightened, nor the courage of our daughter fail as she must leave those she loved. He lifted his hand to her in farewell for both knew that if they touched they would shatter from their pain. Galadriel, Elrond came to my chambers and in my arms he wept as never I have heard any creature mourn before. It tore my heart from me to hear his pain, and I held him close for I knew his loss was even greater than my own. Galadriel, Elrond mourned, and he mourns still every day that he sees Anar’s beauty without our daughter beside him." Celeborn touched the face of his love then and felt the tears upon Galadriel’s cheeks. "I ask you again to seek strength to forgive him."

"I will try, Celeborn. More I cannot promise, and I do not lie to you."

"One more thing you must try and that is to forgive yourself. What happened to our daughter happened. There is no fault in it to apportion to the ones that loved her and felt they were so powerful that, if only they had acted so, none of what happened would haunt us today."

"It will be easier to forgive Elrond, and even that I cannot promise."

"That you will think of this is sufficient." He smiled and wiped her tears away. "Now, it grows chill, and I would have you beside me and safe from all harm."

In the gathering darkness, Galadriel crept beneath the covers next to her husband and found that the buttons of his tunic had somehow come undone, so that her cheek rested against his bare chest, and the smell of his body filled her heart. And Celeborn’s arms closed about her, and Galadriel lay in the only home she had truly known.

*****

"I am supposed to lecture you severely, did you know that?" Celeborn smiled at the young couple sitting before him. "That is what my wife has instructed me to do and ever do I heed my Galadriel’s words." Celeborn assumed a ferocious expression and glared at the young couple. "You have done wrong as I am sure you at least know, Gilúviel."

"Yes, my lord, my actions sicken me. I should have been stronger."

"Yes, a young elf who goes into a battle from whence he knows not that he will return must never seek the comfort of the body of the one he so loves. No elf has ever done such a thing before, and it is indeed shameful." Celeborn smiled as if at a memory. "I am sure that no elf from Doriath ever persuaded his lady to his bed before his marriage. I am very sure of this, for Galadriel says it is so." He laughed to himself at some distant memory that he shared with no one but his lady. "It must not happen again and, to be sure that it will not, I have set Glorfindel to chaperone this lady until she be wed to you as our traditions demand."

"We will obey you and all our elders on this, Lord Celeborn."

"May the Valar help you if that be indeed true! Nay, my children, I ask only that a decent reticence confine you until you be wed. Thranduil will have difficulty accepting this union even without a scandal that you so easily could make. Will you give me your word to bring no shame unto his house?"

"I pledge myself to my father as ever I have done, and my lady has said that she will be guided by me in this." Gilúviel bowed his head to Celeborn.

"Then I shall concern myself no further with the propriety that must be observed." Celeborn drew BW to him then and placed her upon his lap. "You bring me trouble ever, my little maiden, and yet I have grown to love you. Does your heart still feel horror at what you have seen me do? Gil-Galad spoke to me and it has troubled me ever since."

"Gil-Galad is wise beyond measure and made me see with new eyes. I honor you, my lord, as I honor no other save this my beloved."

"Fair words and yet I would be more to you than your sovereign. Little one, you are here without protection among us, and this is not as it should be. Galadriel and I have spoken together on this and would take you as our daughter if you will have us, and then should you have a house and the protection of a people. Will you grant this honor to us?"

"You want to adopt me?" BW’s voice trembled for she had long been an orphan and never had hoped for such a thing, for she knew that she was plain and that it was the pretty children who found parents.

"If you will have us?"

Then her arms were about Celeborn’s neck, and she did lean against his strong body and began to cry. He soothed her as he had soothed Celebrían long before her and dried her tears and was glad. "Then, my daughter, we will proclaim you as our child e’er Legolas betroth you to his brother, and we will give our permission that this be done." Still, she wept and could not speak and he soothed her and let her tears fall. "And, as is our custom, we shall name you as your father chooses. I will name you Tingalen, little one, for you are a maiden who loves one of the Greenwood, and this name is fitting, for ever shall Gilúviel love the green maiden that Lórien gives him. And the star of the twilight of Taur-E-Ndaedalos shall finally know joy."

And in her father’s arms did Tingalen find peace at last, and she let him carry her to her mother, and there she found joy.

*****

"Are you well, my beloved?" Gilúviel looked down at her pale face with real concern in his dark eyes. Elven ceremonies could be exhausting even to the initiated, and this mortal he so loved had just gone through two of the most elaborate of their rituals with very little advanced preparation. Softly, he brushed a stray lock of her hair from her face. He knew so little about mortals, and now he was betrothed to one and charged with her protection and care. To guard the helpless had been his training in life; to care for a being as fragile and precious to him as this particular mortal was unknown and frightening.

"Don’t worry, Zip. . .Gilúviel. I just need to sit down and be quiet for a bit. Is there a place we could just sit and watch? I feel as if all elvendom has had its eyes upon me for the whole evening."

"Aye, it is difficult sometimes. When Legolas and I had our coming of age passage, we swore that we were going to go off and become dwarves before the week was done." Carefully he shepherded her to a secluded couch and sat down with her. "Here you may lean against me and rest, Tingalen."

"I should like that very much." She nestled against him and looked up at his beautiful face with its dark frame of hair held back by the woodland circlet of gold with mithril leaves. Her finger touched the mithril beads that Galadriel herself had strung on the ebony strands of his hair.

"I like these on you."

"Do you? That should reconcile me to them, but, in truth, they are a great trial to wear. Plus, it will take Legolas and I at least an hour to get them out of each other’s hair." He grinned at her. "Still, Lady Galadriel was pleased with our appearance and, if my Tingalen also thought I looked well, I shall bear all in silence as Legolas loses patiences and pulls large pieces of my hair loose with the beads." He bent and kissed her softly. "Tingalen, do you know how beautiful you are this night and how very proud I was to declare your love of me to all here present?"

"That was something about this evening that I did love and shall never forget." Again, he bent his head and kissed her, chastely as was proper in such a public setting, but still she could feel his longing desire for her, about which she had been made clearly to understand by Galadriel that he neither could nor would do anything if he would keep her honor and his own. It was going to seem like the first eternal betrothal Tingalen decided, because she really did want to rip his tunic off every time he held her. She sighed. "I do love you, Gilúviel, and that moment and the one when Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel called me their daughter and gave me my name made all of the rest of this nightmare worth it."

"Ah, I am pleased to hear you say this, my daughter, and as a reward Haldir and I have brought food and drink to nourish us all. Legolas and Galadriel were with us but a moment ago but seem to have strayed off again. Haldir, draw that small table closer and bring pillows and chairs that we may barricade my daughter against the coming onslaught of well-wishers and give her rest." With that, Celeborn kissed her cheek, handed wine to the couple and helped Haldir, all seemingly at once and with complete grace. Before she quite knew how, Tingalen found food before her and saw her new father seated opposite her on a long couch and with a contented smile upon his lips. For Celeborn loved peace and joyful times with his family, and seldom did he have them. The taste of these rare gifts in his mouth was sweet, and he savored it. Haldir had settled himself on a cushion at his lord’s feet and was calmly eating grapes. For Haldir was a warrior and ever did he take nourishment when it presented itself to him for he oft knew not when he would eat again.

Tingalen found herself grinning at the blond warrior. She liked Haldir. He was almost as insane as Legolas but much quieter.

"Tomorrow we leave for Taur-E-Ndaedelos, Lady Tingalen. Shall you be sorry to leave Imladris?" He handed her some of his grapes.

"Nay, Haldir, for we go to the home of my beloved and his brother, and there shall be my joy. Imladris is not my home."

"Never has it been truly home for the Wood-Elves or the Galadhrim, dear lady. We seek ever the trees that are our own. Legolas tells me that on the morrow will you deliver to the Peredhil the missive that you have written, and that it is fair indeed. May it bring our vengeance to fruition and cleanse what has been done to the prince."

"Then it shall be your turn, noble Haldir, and we shall sail for that fell land and seek those who cleaved your skull."

"Aye, lady, that we shall do. And when it is done, mayhap my young brothers will again find peace."

*****

Elrond’s lips curved into a pleased smile. He had not expected this skill from the maiden, yet now it lay before him. The letter was fair and as subtle as an Istar’s words. Elrond doubted not that this fell Board of Directors to whom she wrote would ne’er suspect the true purpose of the kingly gift sent by Thranduil. Gold lust even greater than that of the dwarves would awaken in their hearts, and they would seize the gift and see not the poison beneath this missive’s honeyed words.

"Aye, Tingalen, I stand before you and I, Elrond, Master of Imladris, say that I am impressed by all that you have written. Please forgive my earlier words that you write as a wharf rat for this cunning bait for our snare proves that I spoke in haste."

Tingalen took these fair words into her heart and let them take root there for she had come to love the lord of Imladris second only to her devotion to her beloved and his brother and her new-found parents who had brought her into this life where her joy lay. "Thanks, Elrond, but you were right. I do write as a wharf rat when I am in haste. I’m working on that and e’er a fair copy of my history of these days is made, I beg your courtesy to help me so that the history of the First Born may not be defiled."

"You honor me, my lady, and if my poor pen can be of service to you in this undertaking you shall have it." Gilúviel is doing rather a nice job of amending her fell speech patterns--one suspects all that kissing is a fair training tool for one is always stumbling over them in each other’s arms. I do not envy Glorfindel his job as this lady’s chaperone! Thranduil had best marry them soon or such a scandal we shall have. I shall speak of this to Galadriel. Ai, Elrond, you digress! Yes, I shall endeavor to guide her gently into the paths of noble writing for the talent of observation is there, or I am much mistaken.

And thus entered Tingalen softly unto the path of those who record the lore of the First Born, and long after her spirit departed from her people did the minstrels seek her parchments for their lays and whisper that in her was born again the skills of the Peredhil of great renown.

Chapter 6 - Before the Throne of Thranduil

"I sought you not. Where is thy brother?" The voice of Thranduil was dreadful in its cold fury. Gilúviel heeded not his own fear and did approach his father’s throne with slow and measured step. As he knelt before the king, his dark eyes beheld the elf that to him had always been all he strove to emulate, for Gilúviel’s nature was ever that he saw only the best in those he did love. It saddened him to be the cause of his father’s pain, and he was willing to pay the wergeld that his liege might demand with his own blood. He would pay it though and not his Legolas.

"Thy grievance is not with Legolas but with myself, Father. Unto me be your wrath and your judgment."

"Ungrateful son that I did pluck from the slaughter of the forest’s battle and lay upon my own wife’s breast, now you tell me with whom my grievance lies?" Thranduil’s fist clenched as if he would smite this elf and his dark beauty that stood before him.

"If I be ungrateful ever for thy love or that of my mother than what e’er you do to me this night shall all call just. Yet do I hope to beg that you may judge me on my deeds, my father, and not the reverence I have ever borne for you and for her who nurtured me and taught me first to love."

And the dark elf knelt proudly before his father despite the aching of his heart. He knew that this night would see his end, for his father was ever unforgiving to all who challenged him and even so was this wrath more dreadful than aught he had ever beheld. Thranduil was blind in his fury against his sons. Gilúviel’s sole hope now was to spare his brother and seek safety for the one who was his beloved.

Slowly he removed the woodland crown from his head and lay it at his father’s feet. Then did he draw his dark hair back from his neck and open his tunic. Unto his king, he offered one of his own white knives and bared the flesh of his throat to his lord’s judgment and his  blade.

"Here is my knife, Father, that your own be not be stained with the blood of your son, and here also is the crown that you have given unto me, so that it may not be dishonored by the death of one who wore it and has so offended you. Father, take my life but spare my brother and Tingalen. They are innocent. The sin of loving is all my own."

Trembling did the hand of Thranduil grasp the knife and gaze upon its cold length. He looked upon his son and saw no fear in the great dark eyes that beheld him, but Thranduil did see the lips of his son move, and heard him breathe a prayer to Ilúvatar for forgiveness for the pain he had caused his father. Nothing more did Gilúviel entreat but for this forgiveness, and then he waited quietly and with great dignity for his death, with his fair neck exposed to his father’s wrath and love still abiding in his great eyes.

Thranduil felt himself rise from his throne and walk towards his son, and his fingers closed tightly upon the white knife he held.

"Stay, my lord, for there are two here to meet your justice, and I would accompany my brother." And from the shadows came forth Legolas, and swiftly did he lay his own crown next to his brother’s and kneel beside him to wait for death.

"Father, thy sons have ever loved thee and each other. Let us not be separated in our death. It is all that I seek from you now, to die with Gilúviel as we have lived, and that you may know that we have loved you ever."

And Thranduil raised the knife and pressed it into the throat of Gilúviel until the red blood did spurt and stain the white of his son’s flesh, and he heard his son gasp with the pain of the cold blade, and still he saw no fear and only love in the dark eyes that beheld him beneath a cloud of pain. For even as the blood stained his tunic, did Gilúviel love his father and pity him, and this pity did his father see in those dark eyes awaiting death. And Thranduil watched as his dark son sought the hand of his fair brother even as the red blood flowed from his neck. And he saw Legolas raise his brother’s hand to his lips and kiss it softly, the blood that stained that hand marking his own lips.

Then only did Thranduil throw the knife far from his hand and sink to his knees. Trembling, he drew his sons into his arms and he wept at his own blindness and cursed his anger that had so nearly robbed him of all his joys. And with the crimson of his robes did the king staunch the blood of his son Gilúviel and pray that he was not too late.

Chapter 7 - The Chambers of the King

The healers of Thranduil were silent at their work. Old elves were they. Those that remembered Oropher in his youth, and his son at his mother’s knee. And they remembered all the spilled blood of the Woodland Realm, every drop that had bled from the elves of their kingdom. The young elves who died and waited in Mandos and never knew why. The young elves struck down by the black wind of Sauron before ever they knew the true joys of Arda or heard its music. The young elves who never had the protection of Celebrimbor’s craft. Young elves who died without hope but bravely. Old elves were the healers, and they did bury the young. They closed also the eyes of the mothers who gave up their lives to grief when the last of their sons’ bodies lay bleeding in the Great Wood. Old elves. Those who knew too well the sorrows of this land. Old elves who had seen too much.

They questioned not these elves, for the Wood of Great Fear was ever their mother, and her arms sheltered many horrors, and yet did her elves survive.

"My son?" Thranduil had eaten nothing for five days and left not the bedside where lay his son. And all he did say to each leech who tended his child was the simple question, "my son?"

Will my son live they knew it to mean these old elves. Will his blood stain his father’s hands forever? Will his unborn children rise up and curse their grandfather? Will his brother ever look upon my face again? Thranduil was a captive of his terror, and the old elves could help him not. They offered not comfort even as they understood his terror and pitied him.

"You must eat this that I have brought you." Tingalen held out the bowl of broth to the terrible king of the woodland. "You must eat all of it."

"Why care you if I eat? It would be better if I died, for my life has caused my son’s peril."

"Perhaps. But if you die and he does not then will he sorrow. You must eat for him."

"I cannot. The food would stick in my throat."

"Then let it stick. You must eat and if it is not pleasant I care not." Tingalen looked into the eyes of the king and tried to feel pity. She knew Gilúviel loved this elf, but she understood it not. How could she care what became of the one who would have stolen her joy? "Eat the soup. I care not how you do it, King Thranduil, but you will not die before your son." And she watched him coldly as he drank the broth she had carried to him.

*****

"Tingalen?" The voice was choked and rough, but to her ears there had never been a more beautiful sound. Swiftly, she moved closer to Gilúviel’s bedside.

"Legolas? Does he live still?" His dark eyes looked up at her in fear.

"Yes, my love, he is unhurt. He took no wound. It has been five days though, and he has not slept with watching you. I made him go to his bed for he could scarce stand from exhaustion. Shall I send for him?"

"Not yet. Let him rest." Slowly Gilúviel tried to move in the bed. It hurt, but he could do it, and that small bit of control made him feel better. "They have drugged my sleep?"

"You lost much blood and needed to be kept still."

"I do not remember clearly yet. I do not like this drug, Tingalen. I need to remember. There is something. . ." He turned his head on the pillow and only then did he see his father sitting in the shadows watching him. And he remembered.

Thranduil was motionless beneath the gaze of his son’s dark eyes, and he was afraid as he never had been in his long life. All that he was or would ever be rested on what his son now did.

"Ada, forgive me. I love you so, and I have brought you such pain." Gilúviel held out his long arms, and the king somehow found his way into his son’s embrace and wept.

"Only you, my gentle one, could ask this of the one whose own hand all but ended your life." Softly, Thranduil stroked the black hair of his son and kissed it.

"You were not Ada then. There was some madness upon you that I saw." Gilúviel touched his father’s face with his fingers, feeling the tears upon the fine boning of the cheeks.

"My own pride and arrogance and wicked temper has brought me to this, my son. All that I have been in my life is but ashes."

"Nay, Ada, for you have kept us all safe all these long years. That is not ashes, nor is the love of your sons for you and your people’s. Hold me, Ada, for I need your strength as always. We all do."

And Thranduil gathered his son into his arms and held him close and remembered how he had done so when Gilúviel was but a child and nightmares had come that only his father’s presence could drive away. "I love you, my son, can you forgive me?"

"I did so even as you pushed the blade against my throat, Ada. It is not in me to hate you. You must know this. Legolas and I have ever loved you. We still do."

"I am not sure you can speak for your brother in this, my child, for you have not seen his face look upon me these long days that I have waited here by your side."

"He speaks for me still." Only Tingalen had seen Legolas come softly back into the chamber and stand looking at his father and brother.

The king looked up at Legolas and suddenly saw in him his wife’s face as never before. It had always been hard for Thranduil to look at Legolas after the death of his wife. There was too much pain for him in the remembrance of the planes and angles of her face seen in the sculpting of that same face in their son.

"I have thought I hated you, Ada, for five days now. I let the poison of that hatred seep into me, and I rejoiced in it, and that poison would have killed me but for one thing. This night did I dream that my mother came to me, and she said that Gilúviel woke and bid me come to his bedside. I followed this dream here and heard his gentleness to you who would have killed him, and the hatred died in me and the poison left me, and I was whole once more. I was again Legolas Thranduilion, and ever shall I be such. Ada, I do forgive you, and I love you as always I have done. I am your son, and I would have no other as my father." And Legolas bent to kiss his father’s cheek.

"What have I ever done to deserve such sons as these? Naught have I ever been given in life have I always thought. Everything I had was something I wrested from those who would keep it from me, something that my own strength had brought me. I needed no one but myself did I think. My pride and my arrogance at this strength was almost my undoing. For I see now that there is one thing that Ilúvatar did give to Thranduil freely and in his mercy. He gave me these sons of shadow and light. Almost did I throw this gift away, and yet was he merciful still and stayed my hand." The king kissed his sons and held them, and then he did what he knew he must do, and he turned to Tingalen.

"Lady, canst thou forgive one who has so wronged you? I would have thee as my daughter if it be not too late? Will Celeborn’s daughter forgive me?"

"Can I not love one whom my beloved and my brother embrace? I do forgive you, Thranduil, and say that Celeborn’s daughter would also be your own." And then did Thranduil weep and his sons and daughter with him.

Chapter 8 - Interlude in the Upper Tower

Glorfindel! Wake up at once!

Glorfindel did not wake up. Instead he deliberately rolled over and pulled the blankets closer about him as he sought to ignore the sputtering sounds of Elrond in his mind. It was not yet dawn, and he wished to sleep. He was tired. Life was insane here in the Great Wood, worse than ever he had imagined, and he simply wanted to rest. He would not listen to the belchings of this balrog Elrond before Anar had at least begun the day’s voyage.

WAKE UP, GLORFINDEL! If you do not, I shall send Galadriel in my place. Is that what you want?

Fine, I’m up! Are you happy? I didn’t get to sleep until well past midnight, because Orophin was having nightmares, no doubt brought on by the thought of Thranduil’s chambers being but two doors down from his own. Still, Elrond wants me up, and so I am up. I hope you don’t expect cheerful, Old Friend?  Glorfindel threw his long legs over the side of his bed, sat up abruptly and fumbled to light a candle. He glared at its pale light balefully.

Awake will do for the time. At least run your fingers through your hair though. You look a mess. Imladris has its image to think upon.

Glorfindel reached over and grabbed his comb and began to comb the tangled nests of his hair. He had never gotten the hang of elven stillness when he slept. Glorfindel was a burrower beneath blankets and a bed hog.

There! Are you happy? I have combed my hair for the sake of Imladris. Don’t even think about asking for plaits, Elrond. My fingers braid nothing until I have at least had some fruit juice.

You are grouchy first thing, aren’t you? Even Galadriel says "good morrow" when I seek her mind.

I just bet she does. They do that among the ever-courteous Galadhrim. From me, you will get "good morrow" when it IS morrow. ‘Tis still dark outside, Elrond. I have had to light a candle in case you have not noticed.

So you keep reminding me that it is dark. It seems a grievance with you, friend. Still, I give you good morrow, Glorfindel.

Glorfindel did but grunt and reach for an apple from the bowl on his table. He noted grumpily that someone had again eaten all the grapes.

What do you want, Elrond? You are an elf of method and do not haul yourself into my mind before dawn without a damn good reason. Spit it out."

Celeborn was concerned for his daughter’s safety and did think that I would make a good impression upon Galadriel if I checked on Tingalen. Galadriel’s been looking in that mirror again, and her heart misgave her I understand.

Well, for once the blipping mirror may be right. Have you no idea what has befallen us since we arrived?

Would I ask if I knew? Glorfindel, calm yourself. The damage is done. You are already awake, mellon nîn, so we may as well converse. Take another apple; they are small for one of your great height, and you will feel better once you have eaten. For I see that you are troubled.

Glorfindel bit into his second apple and did indeed begin to feel a certain contentment descend on him. He had always like fruit, particularly grapes.

It has been a nightmare, Elrond. You think Galadriel can get a bit crazy? Try Thranduil, and you will never again complain. Galadriel is a pussycat compared to this orc.

You call Legolas’ father an orc?

You are right. That is too mild. Army of Cave Trolls? The Witch King reborn? Pick your worst, Elrond, and you will have then but a pale imitation of Thranduil in the last week.  Again, Glorfindel bit into the apple. Do you know that he slit Gilúviel’s throat?  

He did WHAT?

Peace, Elrond, the young one lives yet, but it was touch and go for a time. And you always thought Galadriel’s reaction to your own betrothal was the worst that could happen to an elf!

Well, she did refuse to come out of the top of that tree for two weeks. Celebrían was quite upset. For that matter, so was Celeborn. He gets very grumpy if he has to sleep without his wife beside him. I have never understood that myself, but there it is. Did you know that he sat loyally beneath that damn tree for the entire two weeks, even when it did rain? It finally wore her down. A wise elf, Celeborn.

At least, she did not slit your throat with your own white knife! Of course, the kid was stupid enough to present his throat to his father at a bad moment. And give him the knife.

Glorfindel, you are giving me a headache. I have to report all this to Galadriel you know. Could I please hear the condensed version before Galadriel awakens and calls upon you herself? Celeborn has promised to keep her occupied, but I do not trust the Lady completely.

Elrond, if Celeborn is keeping her occupied, we have plenty of time. Trust me on that one. Still, I would rather not dwell on the details for they are not pleasant, especially as it is so EARLY.

Point taken, Glorfindel. What happened?

We all know that Gilúviel is the sweetest and most trusting elf that was ever born. I swear that, if he did not have the deeply suspicious Legolas as his brother, he would not have survived even until his coming of age. He actually had great faith that Thranduil would be overjoyed at the prospect of a short and, forgive me, rather plain mortal as his daughter-in-law. He insisted on confronting the mad one alone too, but Legolas followed him as usual. Gimli’s good sense must be a welcome relief for Legolas. I can see his attraction to the dwarf as a friend when I ponder his rather ethereal brother.

Thranduil was obviously not best pleased?

Glorfindel snorted. He slit the kid’s throat, Elrond, and pretty badly. The details are a little hazy as you can imagine, but Legolas thinks mayhap that his father only relented when Legolas took his brother’s bloody hand and kissed it in farewell. 

Good thinking on Legolas’ part. A tender and gallant farewell to a dying brother would stir Thranduil’s warrior heart as nothing else. This is not a good situation, Glorfindel.

Oh, it gets better. For five days, the kid was unconscious, and all of us were sure he had punched his ticket for Mandos. Thranduil could not be moved from the bedside and would not eat, Tingalen was besides herself with worry as you can imagine, and to top it off Legolas was stalking about muttering very unfilial threats as to what he would do to Thranduil if his brother died. It was not a happy family, Elrond.

What did happen next?

Gilúviel awoke and, being Gilúviel, he begged pardon of his father for the pain he had caused him. Not that that was an easy task mind you, what with a slit throat and all. I think at that point Tingalen almost lost it entirely, but she is Celeborn’s daughter after all and knows how to hold her tongue when she must. Of course, Gilúviel’s gentle spirit shamed Thranduil as it always does in the end if Gilúviel can but survive the process. Still we had the slight problem of Legolas breathing death threats to all who would listen. Orophin has been very upset by this. Being Haldir’s brother, he does not understand family discord.

Glorfindel! Orophin is usually upset by something. He is far too sensitive. It is a worry to Haldir and Rúmil as we all know. What happened about Legolas? Is he still breathing fire?

Nay, he is yet again a dove. Or, at least as dove-like as Legolas ever is. His mother came to him in a dream, and he hath forgiven his father and let go of his hatred.

His mother came to him in a dream? Has she ever done this before?

Not that he’s mentioned. Still, it was a pretty desperate situation. I have not heard from him of late, but somehow I sense Námo at work here. He is very fond of Legolas for some odd reason.

Aye, few know the tenderness of Námo’s judging heart if you get down to it. He’s loosened up considerably since the War.

He is not so lonely now with all the elves we lost because of that Abomination. By the way, how is the mapping for the journey to New Zealand coming along? Gil-Galad says the ship nears completion, and he is really getting sick of babysitting those fell maidens that have been dumped upon the Havens. I hear he chucked Aeglos at a few of them to get their attention as he waxed wroth at their behavior. Apparently, one of them made a pass at old Círdan if you can believe it. I had a nice newsy missive from Gildor Inglorion, who has been visiting there. Did you know Éowyn arrived here yesterday? She’s the only one here taking the situation calmly by the way. I guess after Denethor, even Thranduil might seem a piece of cake.

Galadriel mentioned it. Said she’d feel better if a shield maiden were involved at this end, and, as she is caught up in the New Zealand preparations and cannot come here herself, she thought Éowyn was a good choice. We have not too many shield maidens among our own people she says. Seems to be more of a Rohirric thing. Galadriel is a bit worried that Tingalen will be influenced by Éowyn’s lack of refinement in dress, for her new daughter’s lack of fashion sense is a concern to her already. Celebrían was never a worry to her on that score.

Celebrían had Celeborn for a father and Galadriel as a mother. We know what they can achieve by way of drop-dead clothing. Gimli still has not fully recovered from his first glimpse of Galadriel on what for her was no doubt just an ordinary day. Does anyone think Celebrían would NOT know how to dress? Even you, Elrond, admit that Galadriel can wear a frock with the best of them. The Valar only know what fell examples Tingalen had all her life.

True. So, Legolas is reconciled to Thranduil. That must be a relief to all.

It is, and it isn’t. It makes my life a whole lot simpler, if that ever can be said considering this mess in which I have ensnared myself. Aragorn is oblivious as always. Haldir is wary, but willing to work with Thranduil if he must. Rúmil would work with Sauron himself if it gave him a chance for his revenge. Orophin and Gimli are still problematic.

Orophin is having nightmares again?

Yes, we had thought them under control, but the unpleasantness of the throat slitting has apparently triggered them off yet again. Haldir will see to his brother though as he always has done. I do not greatly fear about Orophin. Gimli is another matter.

Gimli?

Gimli. As you can imagine, he was not a happy dwarf to know that Legolas would have been the next throat to be slit. Gimli has always had a problem with Thranduil after all, and this has not helped matters at all. Apparently, Legolas’ mother did not think to appear to a dwarf, and ours has been stomping about with his battle axe ever at the ready and refusing to let Legolas out of his sight. Legolas has even gone out tree-hugging in an attempt to annoy Gimli off his trail. Didn’t work. The dwarf said he’d hug trees if that was what it took to keep Legolas safe. I find the image quite delightful myself. The dwarf and his tree. What loyalty, Elrond! Would you hug a tree for me?

I may well hit you with a tree if you continue in this fey manner, Glorfindel. Get a grip! This is serious stuff here.

Ah, perhaps you are right. Anyway, Tingalen has ordered that one of us must stay with Thranduil at all times lest Gimli lose it entirely and smite him. She seems to think that would break Gilúviel’s heart. Probably would. That dark one does love his father for some odd reason. I have never really understood those that are not blond. Your pardon, Elrond, for you know that I do love you, but the thought patterns of dark elves are passing strange. I think, however, that our little maiden has had enough as it were.

Aye, poor child! She has indeed chosen a difficult family for her in-laws. I can share her sorrows on that score as well you know, my old friend.

Celeborn’s not so bad. He just refuses to acccept that not everyone is quite as fond of his Lady as he is. That is probably a good trait for a husband? Glorfindel had never married, and with each passing year he was more glad of this fact.

It has its appeal to a wife I should imagine. As everyone loved my Celebrían, I had not that problem.

Glorfindel raised his eyebrow delicately at this for he well remembered a few loud scenes among the servants of Imladris when Celebrían had felt that her Lord Elrond’s needs had not been properly addressed by his staff. Still, Glorfindel was a kind elf, and he did not mention this to his friend.

So, what should I tell Galadriel?

Tell her there was a bit of a problem, but nothing I can’t handle. Let me be very clear on that, dear Elrond. The Mad Witch of the Galadhrim is your problem until we sail, and I don’t want her here complicating things further for me. With Gil-Galad’s and Celeborn’s help, I’ll contain her on the voyage, but not one moment before will I assume this burden. Tell her also that Thranduil has been persuaded that the marriage of his son is a good thing. We shall probably have a small ceremony at the Havens e’er sailing. Gilúviel should be out of his bandages by then, and I am not, I repeat NOT, going on that voyage as chaperone to two very eager and yearning young ones who cannot keep their hands off each other. It is not healthy for them or for me. Gilúviel may be gentle, but I suspect even he has his limits, even if throat slitting by his own father is apparently not among them. He had to bathe in every cold river we could find between Imladris and this castle. It really was a problem at times. Therefore, they shall be married e’er we sail, or you shall be on board as well with your mother-in-law. Do I make myself clear, Elrond?

I will tell Celeborn. Mayhap he can persuade Galadriel to abandon her plans for the wedding being held in the Golden Wood upon their return. Celeborn is wise. He shall know how to accomplish this.

Good morrow, Elrond!

What?

Anar has now begun the day’s journey, and I bid you "good morrow"! Did you not seek that?

Aye, good morrow, Glorfindel!

So, if we are quite through, Elrond, I think I shall now go down to breakfast. I have had no sleep and less to eat, and I feel a strong desire for some grapes.

And with that, Glorfindel felt Elrond’s departure from his mind, for the old friends knew well the limits of their tolerance one for the other. Such things kept their friendship strong.

Chapter 9 - The Scientific Research Department of Middle Earth

Life was sweet for LH. He found he liked Mahogany Row at the think tank. His rise in the feeding chain of the Development Department had been so rapid that none had ever investigated his academic credentials. He could generate money and grants. It was his only talent. He was not so squeamish as those politically correct minds who had so quickly backed off after the outcry over the dissection. Fools. They had gotten five grants afterwards, lucrative ones. He would have to tread carefully, but already LH was toying with the idea of another dissection. After all, they had been unsuccessful in their attempts in that first elf population they had selected in the Golden Wood. Perhaps they were of a higher order? All publicity was good, even bad publicity was LH’s creed. He could never understand why BW had been so upset at the killing of one Wood-Elf. It was not as if it were a human after all. It was not a sentient being. BW was too soft in addition to being plain. Still, the cache of notes he had discovered in her bedroom while she was on that field expedition had been gold to him. They revealed so much on the powerful here at SRDME and elsewhere, so much that they would prefer to be kept quiet. She was always almost wanton in her recording of people and events. And, she was so disorganized in her filing that, even if she were back, she no doubt would never have noticed the absence of those particular notes. Sometimes LH wondered what had become of her after he had dumped her, but not often. She was his past. His bed was warmed by someone considerably more attractive these days. Heather. Young, nubile, blonde. He sighed with pleasure.

Still, they had made his career, those notes. She was such a dog, BW. He had been drunk when he first took her to bed, and her pathetic devotion to him had been a tonic to him somehow. Besides, she had a better income than he did then. Her parents’ estate had left her all that money, and thus she had never even asked him to share the rent when he moved in. And, she was smart and well thought of in her field. Her income was steady and, at times, amazing to LH, who had been poor since birth. Who the hell really cared about these Wood-Elf studies?

Somebody must. Elves were on the cutting edge of popular interest these days, or so it seemed. Why, LH could not fathom, but he intended to cash in on the craze, especially as the Department had that resident population near at hand. Of course, sightings had been extremely rare since the dissection. The Wood-Elves seemed to have grown wary. LH had made himself read all the literature however much it might bore him. Fey and altogether too strange did the elves seem to him. They made his skin crawl, but that was irrelevent as far as money was concerned. He had always zoned out on her as BW would go on about Phoebus, Zippy and BandAid and their approaches to the research team’s camp site. To LH, they were talented chimps in a circus. Oh, he knew that there there were philological theories that their language and culture might really be advanced. Right. Nothing was proven. There were people who believed that they would find Atlantis as well. Besides, no one gave grants for philology research. That was a given.

He shook himself suddenly. Why was he wasting so much time musing about BW? This afternoon he was sure that he would secure the grant that would serve as his finest moment to date if not in his career. An eccentric who guided the investments of yet another eccentric wanted to give them the richest grant that they had ever been offered. Ah, they were as mother’s milk to his soul, these eccentrics. They would give richly. He had but to play to what they desired. Now, what was the name of his visitor? Gandalf Greyhame?

Odd name that, but then the letter he’d sent said that he and the donor were only living temporarily in this country, no doubt from one of those Eastern European places. Valinor or something like that. LH hadn’t even bothered to try and locate it on a map. All these little countries seemed as an operetta country to LH. One could not quite take them seriously. Still, he must remember the name of his guest today. He and the prospective donor had money to burn it seemed. People were impressed if one always remembered their names. LH buzzed his secretary, who now also shared his bed. She was good there, but sometimes she forgot herself at the office. She must not put a foot wrong with this appointment.

"Heather, any sign of him?"

"Not yet, babe. Can you believe that I just saw a party of horsemen ride up the mall? Really wild. They had bows and arrows and fake swords and everything. Must be those re-enactors practicing for the fair next month."

"Ah, yes! Remind me to get in touch with LS. We may be able to work an angle on that with the History Department. It’s worth a shot."

*****

"I am here to see your director. My name is Gandalf Greyhame."

Heather swallowed her gum, and all but choked on it. LH had said eccentric. He surely could not have meant this. This was surely beyond eccentric even by LH’s loose standards?

The old man who stood before her was clothed in white flowing robes. His long white hair and beard all but obscured his face and he held a carved white staff. His eyes fixed Heather with a burning stare.

Still it was not enough to distract her from what alarmed her most. Mr. Greyhame had not arrived alone as they expected. Beside him was the tallest and strangest man that Heather had ever seen. Also one of the most gorgeous.

He must be seven feet if he were an inch. Hugely tall yet slender and finely muscled, with long braided golden hair that fell down his back. Heather felt her face grow warmer as she looked at him. He was clad in tunic and leggings of grey and a flowing cape of dark blue velvet embroidered at its edge with what looked like small golden flowers, as if he were among the re-enactors she had seen gallop down the mall. That was probably it. Surely neither that huge bow and quiver of arrows on his back nor that extremely long sword at his waist could be real? So many of these millionaires were into historical recreations. They got bored by modern life LH said with disdain. She found somehow that she could scarcely take her eyes from the companion to their sucker, as she and LH had come to name their potential benefactor in private. She wanted to lure him into her webs and ensnare him.

"Ah, as I have said already, we are here to see your director? Please tell him that Gandalf Greyhame and Glorfindel are here."

Heather shook herself and reached for the intercom. When it squawked, she hit the appopriate button and announced: "LH, Mr. Greyhame and Mr. Findel are here to see you."

"Ah, splendid!" squawked the box. The tall blond had moved his hand to the hilt of the rubber sword and eyed the box alertly as he placed his body in front of the old man. Mr. Greyhame smiled at him calmly.

In his office, LH had no idea who Mr. Findel might be, but a friend of the potential benefactor must be made welcome. Often, they were wealthy in their own right. Fundraising was an art after all. "Please see them into the large conference room, Heather. I shall be there in a moment."

"Lady, is there aught amiss?" Mr. Findel was looking at her with grave concern while still keeping one eye on the small box on her desk. He was sure it was bewitched.

"Beg pardon?"

"It is freely given, my lady, yet I assure you that you gave no offense. I was merely concerned that some ill had befallen you as you seem to bat thine eyes with great speed at my countenance."

Mr. Greyhame seemed to be overcome by a sudden coughing spell, and Heather saw him grasp Mr. Findel’s elbow and propel him forward rapidly towards the conference room she had indicated. He might be old, but he seemed to have a wiry strength and vigor.

"Some water, perhaps, Mr. Greyhame?"

"Yes, my dear, that would be lovely of you. Our three younger companions will be joining us as soon as they have seen to the horses. Haldir o Lórien and his two brothers. Please have them join us, my dear, as soon as they arrive."

"Certainly. May I offer you anything?"

"Ah, fruit would be excellent if you have it. Glorfindel and Haldir are both especially fond of grapes. A large quantity would be prudent if you can manage it. We rode hard and did not stop for food."

"Grapes? Yes, certainly. I’ll have some delivered at once."

"A little cheese and bread, perhaps, and wine as well? Yes, wine would be very nice indeed."

Heather nodded pertly and rolled her eyes heavenward as she passed LH as he entered the room. She closed the doors and heard the exchange of introductory pleasantries as she dialed the local Gourmet Shop for delivery.

*****

The food arrived with a very much frightened delivery boy. Heather decided she really didn’t blame him for the look of abject terror he wore.

Surrounding him stood three more of the tallest and blondest men Heather had ever seen, and they were carrying three of the largest archery bows she had ever seen. All of them wore expressions of wary fierceness as they held the poor delivery sap in their gaze. They wore long cloaks of a soft grey, so she couldn’t check out their clothing as was her automatic response to men. You could tell a lot from clothes. The hair was something she’d have killed to have for herself. Heather placed a mental wager that the color didn’t come out of a bottle either. She decided upon the spot that, however dangerous it might prove, she would definitely investigate that East European country that bred such hunks. She just had to find a way to get the name out of LH without raising his suspicions.

"Lady, I am Haldir o Lórien and these are my brothers, Rúmil and Orophin. We are seeking Gandalf Greyhame and Glorfindel and have found this creature skulking in the corridors of thy keep. He would not give his name when fairly asked by my brothers, and so we grew wary that he may be here with fell intentions."

"Oh, no, he was expected, Mr. O’Lorien. LH sent for some refreshments for Mr. Greyhame’s group." Haldir bowed his head courteously and released the terrified delivery boy. For the first time ever, the Gourmet Shop driver didn’t wait for a tip as he raced from the room as fast as he could. Orophin looked at his brother as if he were troubled, but Haldir’s smile reassured him as ever.

"Well, Mr. O’Lorien, if you and your brothers will just follow me to the conference room." She made a move to pick up the delivery box, but, at a quick nod from Haldir, Rúmil took it from her hands to carry.

"Lady, allow my brother to carry this heavy burden for you. It is not meet that such a lady as yourself be so encumbered. Lead and we shall follow you."

*****

"Ah, the fruit has arrived at last! And our companions with this lovely lady. Haldir o Lórien and his brothers Rúmil and Orophin." Gandalf gestured to identify the three to LH as Orophin helped Rúmil lay out the fruit, bread and cheese. Gandalf noted gratefully that there appeared to be no odd wrappings to confuse the brothers. No mellyrn leaves, but at least nothing the two youngest couldn’t understand. Haldir seemed to be coping rather well, but then his voyage to New Zealand had probably been helpful on that. "Haldir, this gentleman has asked that we call him LH."

"‘Tis a fair name." Actually, Haldir thought it was rather strange, but he was courteous and nodded his head. He took his place by Glorfindel and motioned to Orophin to sit on his other side. Glorfindel quickly helped himself to a supply of grapes from the bowl Rúmil sat before his brothers. He was not going to be beaten by the young one this time. Haldir smiled courteously at the older elf as he helped himself and Orophin.

"The horses have been fed?"

"Aye, Glorfindel, Rúmul found a fountain amidst the great grassland before this dwelling. We let them drink and turned them loose to graze."

"You arrived on horses? There is a train, Mr. Findel." Glorfindel glanced at Gandalf, and saw the Istar shake his head slightly. So, Glorfindel held his peace even though he wondered greatly what sort of steed a train might be. He decided he would ask Elrond if he knew. Having a library rat as a best friend did have certain advantages.

"Ah, that is my fault. My health requires this sort of exercise and these young gentlemen are generous in indulging someone as old as myself." Gandalf smiled his most charming smile. Had Legolas been there to see it, he would have ducked quickly under the table. Gandalf’s smiles could be very dangerous. "Now, if I understood what you were saying, LH, it seems that the Department will be delighted to meet the terms of Mr. Greenleaf’s gift. It is a generous one and the terms seem quite straightforward."

"Extremely generous, Mr. Greyhame." LH drooled mentally as he remembered the ornate casket of jewels and gold that had just been placed into the Department’s safe. Title would be theirs as soon as the terms of the grant were met. "I am sure that we will all be delighted to meet the terms of the bequest. Mr. Greenleaf does the Department great honor by recognizing the difficult work of the Dissection Team in light of the certain amount of controversy that surrounded their last project."

Gandalf saw Orophin become a little paler at these words, but Haldir quickly poured his brother a glass of wine and put it into the trembling young hand with a reassuring smile. Orophin took a deep breath and sipped the wine.

"Controversy oft surrounds that which is new as I understand you to say. Mr. Greenleaf has taken a personal interest in your research and is intent on meeting with the team to discuss their activities. Alas, since the recent death of his son, he has become almost a complete recluse. Tragedy can do that to one as I am sure you know." Again, Gandalf smiled charmingly. "Mr. Greenleaf is most appreciative of the team’s willingness to travel to him for their meeting. It is an inconvenience for them to have to camp in the forest, but there are no accommodations near to Mr. Greenleaf’s dwelling and, as I mentioned, he has become such a recluse of late. He would not really be at ease with so many houseguests, however distinguished. We will I assure you provide quite a luxurious campsite in keeping with the dignity of the team. All expenses will of course be met by us. Ah, I’m sure they will enjoy it. The Great Wood is most beautiful at this time of year. All that healthy fresh air!"

LH was just glad he didn’t have to make the trip. JV and that dissection team of his had caused considerable problems for his fundraising efforts. He had pointed this out to the Board only yesterday at its emergency meeting to discuss the unexpected windfall. LH had been assured that the scientists would do all that was required of them.

"I’m sure they will enjoy it, Mr. Greyhame." LH was actually sure that they would hate every minute of it. JV, the team leader, was not the outdoorsy type. He preferred chasing skirts at the local bars. That was his problem though. LH thought contentedly of the jewels in the safe.

"Just one last thing, LH, before we really must make our departure. I was given to understand that you might know the researcher on another of your Departments teams. I believe her name was BW?"

"Ah, yes, I had some dealings with her. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just curious. Mr. Greenleaf and I are familiar with her study of the wood-elves. In our youth, they were often sighted in the area we understand, but the colony seems to have dwindled. A sad thing, but then life moves on."

"Unfortunately, BW is no longer with the Department. I understand she may have relocated to New Zealand." LH smiled in relief. He’d been worried for a moment, but the bumbling old man’s inquiry seemed harmless after all.

"Ah, New Zealand! I understand that it has become quite a popular place for people to visit." Gandalf nodded at the elves who rose silently and gracefully from the table as one. "Well, we really must be off. Thank you so much for this delicious repast and all your efforts on our behalf. We shall look to the coming of the Dissection Team a week from the morrow at daybreak."

That should really please JV was the amused thought of the Development Director. The doctor was not good at morning meetings. LH exchanged courteous farewells with the group and escorted them to the door. This called for a drink he thought and turned to Heather to ask her to fix them.

The blonde was standing, almost transfixed, by the window. Startled at his words, she turned back to him and said in a hushed voice. "LH, they’re all riding bareback and with no bridles, even the old guy."

Chapter 10 - Taur-E-Ndaedelos

"Legolas, I like it not that we have brought these maidens into danger." Haldir looked worried as he glanced over to the path that led to the distant camp site.

"Haldir, do yourself a favor and don’t let Éowyn hear you make a remark like that. You don’t want to upset a shieldmaiden."

I am amazed. The next time someone writes that I am as impatient as my father, I hope that author bears in mind that I have yet to kill Haldir or either of his brothers in this story. Thranduil would have dispatched at least Orophin by the end of day one.

"Besides, they’re perfectly safe, Haldir. Aragorn, Gimli and your brothers are protecting them."

Hope Tingalen remembers to stick by Aragorn and Gimli, Orophin still tends to be a bit of a problem if he loses sight of Haldir.  That could distract Rúmil.

Legolas snorted quietly. Catch me being that clingy with Thranduil! He’d send me off to round up Smaug to toughen me up. Adar seems to think blond elves have to go that extra mile to prove themselves. He should know I guess.  Look what those Noldor did to him all those years. And, did anyone even give us a ring to use up here? That would have been a friendly gesture considering the neighborhood we live in.

Haldir had no idea really what a shieldmaiden might be, but he trusted Legolas and said no more.

Instead, he resumed his watchful waiting, for the snare had been set and the warrior elves of Taur-E-Ndaedelos waited silently in the shelter of the highest treetops above them and kept watch upon the Company below.

*****

"Why cannot I simply hew them with my sword as soon as they approach?" Éowyn was annoyed. She had never been called subtle, and all this strategic ripping of her bodice and the artistic application of mud to her fair face was passing strange to her.

Tingalen counted to ten mentally. "Listen, I don’t care what Gloria Steinem says, if we want to snare these gits for Legolas, you’re going to have to do the helpless maiden bit. I mean, I know I promised to tag along, but you’re the pretty one after all, so would you stop bitching. You can work out the details about hewing them with swords later with Legolas and Aragorn."

"Who might this Gloria Steinem be, my lady?"

"She was a great shieldmaiden. I’ll explain when this is over."

Éowyn was puzzled, but she had grown to trust Tingalen and to love her as a sister, so she helped her friend rip a thigh-high slit in each of their long white gowns.

Tingalen smiled in satisfaction. "OK, that ought to do it. We don’t want to end up looking like those Mary Sues, do we?"

Éowyn shuddered at her friend’s words and her spirit grew dark, for she had glimpsed these fell creatures as Thranduil’s she-elf warriors had led them down the path to begin the journey to the Grey Havens. The sight of them had filled her soul with a deep foreboding of evil.

*****

In the shadows of the trees not far from the maidens, stood Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and Gimli, son of Glóin. And in their hands they held ready their weapons long proven in battle, Andúril and the mighty battle axe of the khazâd.

In the trees above them, they heard the soft voices of Legolas and Gilúviel, and of Rúmil speaking to his young brother. They heard the nocking of the arrows in the great bows of the Galadhrim.

"Think you the kid will crack, Aragorn?" Gimli was worried about the youngest elf for he knew that Orophin’s suffering had been great at the loss of Haldir and other recent events.

While the young elf thirsted for revenge for his beloved brother’s torment, they knew not if his spirit would yet break and be lost to them.

"He’ll be fine. I heard Legolas describing yet again his dissection to him this afternoon, with all the gory details. The look on the kid’s face was enough to fell an orc without even an arrow. It certainly firmed up my resolve again."

Aragorn’s eyes reflected his cold hatred of the scientists they stalked. They would pay the price for what they had done to Legolas!

For Legolas was unto him now as his brother, and his wrongs had become Aragorn’s own. The scientists would not live out this night.

Gimli grunted and glared out into the night’s darkness. "Foul creatures, come to my axe and taste the anger of a dwarf!"

*****

Together the two maidens awaited the drawing closer of the hapless male researchers. Being scientists, most of them would have never stood a prayer with a dish such as Éowyn, and here she would be lying helpless in their path. They would have no choice but to rescue anyone so fair. They were men.

Tingalen was quite sure none of them would even notice her. Fine by her, though. She had Zip. . .Gilúviel and that was all she needed or wanted, even if he wasn’t famous like his golden brother. Tingalen looked up in the treetops where her beloved perched with the blond.

At Legolas’ signal, she and Éowyn cried out in such distress that the researchers came rushing down the path towards them heedless of all around. Tingalen could smell the testosterone in the air.

She and Éowyn then did artistically faint in the pathway directly in the line of fire from the trees. They had practiced this bit a lot and perfected it.

As soon, as the men drew near to rescue them, the two maidens rolled swiftly beneath the shelter of some strategic bushes and disappeared, hiking the damn white gowns up to their thighs as they ran back through the forest to where Gandalf would be waiting.

Thoroughly confused now, JV and his team members heard the rustle of trees as elven warriors dropped from them gracefully.

The researchers were momentarily paralyzed at the sight of the arrows being nocked into the great bows and then they ran like hell.

They ran right into the loving arms of the enraged King Elessar and the maddened Son of Glóin.

"ELENDIL!" was the last word that the dying researchers heard.

*****

It had not taken them long, twenty minutes tops. The shieldmaiden had had them drooling within seconds of her appearance and totally oblivious to their surroundings. Men could be such fools and were so often weak! Gandalf sighed at this.

Still, all the dead bodies had been neatly carried back to the campsite more than twenty miles from Thranduil’s forest lair. Legolas had suggested the false map coordinates.

Kid’s brilliant. If someone doesn’t kill him again, he’ll go far. At least we have Gimli to keep an eye on him now. Sensible dwarf, Gimli. Gandalf smiled at this odd literary pairing.

Mr. Greyhame would, of course, make concerned inquiries as to why the team had failed to show for its meeting with Mr. Greenleaf. He would be forced to regretfully request the return of the treasure as the terms of the grant had been abrogated.

Very neat. Gandalf liked tidiness in everything, despite the usual condition of his robes.

Now, where has Legolas gotten to with that one survivor? That doctor who’d headed the dissection team. JV was it? Most unpleasant chap.

Well, Legolas is a capable elf, and his Fellowhip will aid him no doubt. Best not to ask what that special fate was that Legolas had mentioned for the one who actually sliced him open. Some things even an Istar is not meant to know.

Ah, I should give Thranduil a report of our success. He will be pleased. I think I shall suggest a bottle of his finest wine just might be in order.

Gandalf walked up the pathway to where he had left Shadowfax waiting. He found himself whistling a bit of Bilbo’s walking song.

____________

Author's Note:

Taur E-Ndaedelos: Sindarin for "Forest of Great Fear", also known as Mirkwood, the Wood, the Great Wood, Eryn Lasgalen (Sindarin for "Wood of Green Leaves") and, originally, Greenwood the Great.

Chapter 11 - The Gorge of Mirkwood

This is going to be really sweet, you bastard. Looks like you’re about to puke with fear. Oh, this is going to be so sweet. My very tasty dish of revenge eaten entirely cold. Sweet!

Legolas tightened his grip on the good doctor’s arm as he frog-marched him towards the deepest depths of Taur-E-Ndaedelos. Mirkwood be damned, my good doctor. That’s what you mortals call my home. Welcome, good doctor, to my forest of great fear!

"Where are you taking me? I demand an answer!"

Demand? That’s rich. Your days of demanding are over. You ripped my guts open to advance your career. Are you frightened? Eru, I hope so. I sure as udûn was.

Legolas felt the Galadhrim’s presence near him. His keen eyes sought them in the clearing near the edge of the small but deep gorge he had found so many years ago.  He’d known it would be useful one day, so very useful.

Rúmil and Orophin were now beside him. Legolas’ eyes sought Haldir.

The grim-faced March Warden suddenly appeared from the depths of the shadows of the trees that surrounded the glade. An obviously terrified mortal was with him and tightly held by the elf’s powerful hands. Haldir loosed the gag at the man’s mouth.

Legolas watched as his companion from the Halls of Mandos dragged the man closer. The mortal was putting up a struggle, but he was certainly no match for an elven warrior.

"Who in udûn is that, Haldir? This was not in the Plan."

"Ah, my good friend, have you not ever said to me that I must be more flexible? I am now flexing." His eyes beheld his captive without pity.

"Good prince, may I introduce to you LH. This foul creature did defile the Lady Tingalen’s body and then did abandon her to her fate."

Never had Legolas seen such fury on an elven face. "He has defiled the daughter of Lord Celeborn and my Lady! For this, he will meet his death!"

The terrified fundraiser looked as if he might expire from sheer fright on the spot, but that was his problem thought Legolas.

I am not messing with Haldir in this kind of mood. No way. I’m not even going to ask when he found time to go capture this whelp. Courteous they may be and sometimes annoying but give me two really ticked-off Galadhrim, and you can keep your ten Imladrians.

He wants to defend the honor of his Lord and Lady’s daughter, fine by this elf! Besides, she’s going to be my sister-in-law soon, so that gives him the right to demand my assistance in defending her honor I suppose. Ai, Eru! I’d forgotten how interesting life could be in this forest.

"Your words have I heard, Haldir. It shall be as you wish. Have patience. Rúmil, hold this spawn of udûn for me!"

Legolas stalked gracefully in a slow-moving circle around the frightened doctor, a ritual dance of his fury. He smiled coldly at the doctor and his eyes never left the terrified face.

"I see you do not remember me, JV. Ah, well! That is no doubt to be expected." Legolas’ soft voice was deadly.

"After all, who looks at the faces of those they sacrifice to their careers?" Legolas drew his tunic from his body and stood before JV.

In the moonlight of Taur-E-Ndaedelos, JV saw the deep scars of careless incisions still strongly visible on the elf’s slender torso. "Allow me to introduce you to Telerius galadh."

The elf smiled courteously at the doctor. His beautiful scarred body seemed to glow in the forest’s dim light. "By the way, my name is Legolas Thranduilion, should you at be at all interested."

"You can’t be. You were dead. We’re always very careful about that. The publicity otherwise would be hell."

"Aye, I was most certainly dead, but my fëa lingered and saw what you did to the body that had cherished it for thousands of years. Your mistake, good doctor, was to underestimate this simple wood-elf."

He grasped the doctor back from Rúmil and began to drag him towards the deep gorge.  Haldir did the same with the fundraiser. Both men were screaming, but there was no one to hear them who cared.

Legolas laughed at the pleadings of the two men. "You want our mercy? I think not. The journey from Mandos was too far for us to turn back now. Besides, there is a lady here that I wish you to meet. Haldir?"

The tall elf who had become Legolas companion on this strange journey nodded grimly.

"Ah, gentlemen, be introduced by Legolas Thranduilion to Shelob’s Daughter!"

With that, the two elves pushed the men into the abyss.

*****

The clicking sounds of the feeding spider had grown softer and finally ended. Legolas looked up at the moon and felt its beauty.

Haldir and he were alone now as they had been in Mandos. They sat in the quiet companionship of all they had shared.

"Legolas, think you we should tell Tingalen and thy brother of LH?"

Legolas breathed in the sweet night air of his forest home. It was better than wine.

"Nay, Haldir, perhaps not. My brother and his Lady stand before the dawn of their new life together. Better that their thoughts should not dwell upon such spawn of udûn that are better gone from Arda."

Legolas stood up gracefully and extended his hand to help his friend rise. Together, they took one last look at the now silent gorge. Legolas placed his hand upon his heart and bowed low to its darkness.

"Hiro hyn hîdh ab ‘wanath," breathed Legolas. Then, he laughed and laughed, and Haldir joined him.

"Haldir?" Legolas wiped the tears of laughter from his beautiful eyes.

"Aye, Legolas?"

"Next stop New Zealand?"

"Aye, Legolas."

With their arms around each other’s shoulders, the warriors of the Mad Witch then strode from the forest of great fear.

___________

Author’s note:

Taur E-Ndaedelos: Sindarin for "Forest of Great Fear", also known as Mirkwood, the Wood, the Great Wood, Eryn Lasgalen (Sindarin for "Wood of Green Leaves") and, originally, Greenwood the Great.

Thranduilion:  Son of Thranduil.

Eru: Another name for Ilúvatar. Essentially and very simplified, the elven deity.

Fëa (plural: fëar): Quenya. Spirit, soul.

Udûn: Sindarin for "un-West", possibly akin to "hell"

Shelob: A Great Spider. She and her offspring dwelt in Mirkwood and in the Ephel Dúath. Sam blinded and stabbed Shelob herself at Cirith Ungol. She probably starved to death because she could no longer hunt. But, her offspring?

Hiro hyn hîdh ab ‘wanath:  Sindarin. "May they find peace after death."

Author's Note:  As usual, thoughts are in italics.  Tingalen's journal entries are bold italics.  Life can be difficult!

_________

The Harbor at the Grey Havens

Galadriel and her Celeborn strolled by the harbor in the beautiful twilight world they so loved.  They walked arm in arm and savored the moment that was now theirs alone. 

The wedding of their daughter Tingalen to Thranduil’s younger son had gone well. Small, tastefully appointed tables for the feasting, a select group of guests. Even Thranduil had behaved himself.

And, she had managed to do something with that impossible hair of her daughter and get her into a decent frock for a change. Tingalen had looked almost pretty. Galadriel was pleased.

She smiled at her husband Celeborn. His heart was still so heavy at losing his new daughter to another’s keeping, but Galadriel was patient with him and did love him even more for his tender heart.

They had just one or two more things to accomplish before they boarded the ship.

*****

". . .they robbed even Asfaloth of his bells?" Gently and with great sadness, the Lady of Light had imparted to the valiant warrior Glorfindel the terrible news as it had been revealed to her by Tingalen, her daughter.

It had not been easy to see this loved friend recoil at the evil she laid before him, and she had been glad that Celeborn, as ever through the ages, was beside her.

From her perch on a nearby rock, Tingalen watched as Celeborn caught Glorfindel as he staggered back under the weight of the news and duly noted down that: in the strength of Celeborn, Glorfindel recovered his own.

She’d been working on her style ever since Elrond had told her she wrote like a wharf rat, and that she could not chronicle the Eldar in such a low and demeaning way.

It was just that they all moved so fast that half the time she was lucky to just get the facts down. She’d clean her journal up before she let Elrond see it again.

Tingalen liked Elrond. Sometimes he seemed to be the only sane elf on the playing field. That statement often included her beloved and her new father and mother. Elves, as Gimli would say!

Although you couldn’t really tell with Celeborn, because you never knew exactly what he was really thinking. Those thousands of years with Galadriel probably taught him more than basic survival skills she thought.

This looks like trouble. Galadriel’s just told Glorfindel about the Ford of Bruinen scene. I knew she’d do that in the end. Never trust an elf-witch as me old mum used to say. Well, she would have said it if she’d ever known that there were elf witches. Or, if I really remembered me mum. I was only two months old after all.

Have to hand it to Galadriel, though, she’s got style and knows how to wear a frock. What she sees in me as a daughter I cannot fathom. Everyone tells me that Celebrían was fair beyond measure. If I survive New Zealand, must consult her on a makeover. This shieldmaiden wardrobe of Éowyn’s is just not me.

The populace seems to be aroused now and I’m not surprised. Glorfindel seems to be getting taller somehow (just what I need, a taller Glorfindel!) and---I just knew he was going to do this--he’s starting to glow.

No, that’s not even glowing anymore. They all do that. This is pretty weird. Looks like he’s standing in a klieg light almost. The Abomination would love this. That’s got the crowd’s attention. What are all those things they’re shouting? May be useful information.

She scribbled the words quickly as the crowd proclaimed:

Glorfindel, the last of the House of the Golden Flower!

Not surprised at THAT. Good thing he’s big and carries a sword if he’s going to be yelling that in the streets of Wellington.

Bane of the Nazgûl! Balrog Slayer!

I’d better find out what these Nazgûl and balrogs really are. Will ask Gilúviel tonight if I can get him to keep his hands off me long enough. I thought the Abomination had made them up, but these guys are all always going on about them, so they must be around somewhere, and they’re a big deal. With my luck, I’ll probably run into one in New Zealand, and it would be good to know what I’m up against. Meant to ask Legolas but was distracted by that spider. Yeeech!

Wouldn’t want to put my foot into it again by asking Glorfindel directly. Bad enough moment when I asked Elrond if he’d never thought of remarrying after Celebrían.

Tingalen winced at the memory of the glare Elrond had sent her way as he coldly informed her that the Eldar married for eternity.

How was I to know? Look, the divorce rate I’m used to is through the roof! Eternity--who would ever have thought!

Lucky Galadriel was consulting her Mirror at the time as I don’t think I could have ducked both of them at once. I hope this elven thing gets easier now that I’ve married Zip. . .Gilúviel. Tingalen smiled. She did so like elves, even the blond ones.

*****

The horror of Galadriel’s words seeped deep into Glorfindel’s very soul and permeated his being.

He lifted his golden head and gave a mighty cry of battle. "Forth, the House of the Golden Flower!" he bellowed and charged down toward the great ship wherein rode the Mary Sues.

Such was his fury that he almost knocked Círdan into the sea, but caught himself in time and jumped over him instead. This startled the old elf mightily, but left him essentially intact.

It was not wise for even a warrior such as the mighty Glorfindel to raise the ire of Círdan. One never knew when one might have need of a ship.

Tingalen grabbed up her backpack and notebook and ran after Glorfindel, turning as she ran to look back at the the fair elves of the Havens as they raised their long hands in salute to the voyagers.

Frantically, she tried to scribble a phonetic transcription of "Námarië" as she ran. Thus occupied, Tingalen did not notice Círdan until she barreled into him and heard the splash of the sea as its arms covered him.

Quickly, Tingalen dived into the hold, mumbling something to Aragorn and Legolas about checking on the Mary Sues with Éowyn.

Please, Eru, don’t let Gil-Galad have seen that! We’re just starting to get friendly! I’ll be back to Square One! Tingalen decided she would stay below deck for a bit.

*****

Serene and gentle, Galadriel lay her arm on that of her husband as they stood together as of old in Doriath. "Celeborn?"

He inclined his silver head to her golden one. "My love?"

"Think you it would be an excess if we just mentioned to Gil-Galad that his part at Dagorlad was reduced to five seconds of an extra holding a spear? So little respect for the last High King of the Noldor!" Tears glistened in Galadriel’s fair eyes.

"It is a course that we shall ponder together, my love, as we sail with him." Celeborn extended his arm to her and protected her path as they returned to the quayside. They nodded courteously to the still dripping Círdan and boarded his ship.

And Celeborn the Wise knew again his good fortune that the Lady of the Galadhrim had always loved him.

Thus Endeth Part the First
of the Tale of the Wood-Elf and his Revenge

Author's Note:  Thanks again to Bryn for the loan of her SRDME and original characters.  So sorry I killed off most of them!
___________

Epilogue:  Esgaroth-upon-Mirkwood, Middle Earth

Quarterly Report of the Board of Directors
Scientific Research Department of Middle Earth

It is with the deepest regret and sorrow that the Board of Directors and the Scientific Research Department of Middle Earth announce to the scholarly community and our members the seeming mass murder of the renowned research team which conducted the still somewhat controversial, but we believe scientifically valid, dissection of Telerius galadh. It was headed by the esteemed researcher JV, who is survived by three former wives.

Our Linguistics Department continues to try to decipher the parchment found with the neatly stacked bodies at the last known campsite of the team. References to "Dwimmerlaik," "udûn" and "Ilúvatar" as well as others are proving problematic.

With deep regret, we announce that LH, the esteemed head of our Development Department, has apparently disappeared. He had been suffering from depression as we understand, and the police do not at present suspect foul play. They will, of course, continue to investigate in light of the strange arrow found lodged in the wall above LH’s desk chair.

The arrow does not seem to belong to the equipment of our own renowned Archery Team, so the police consider it somewhat significant.

Also, there appears to be an inscription on this arrow in what our Linguistics Department describes as a "cirth" alphabet, but it is not of a recognized language. Research to decipher the cirth will continue. However, we have been reassured by the police that luminol has revealed no traces of blood in the office.

In the midst of our sorrow, we are pleased to also announce that the researcher BW, who was originally feared lost with the team, has apparently merely relocated upon her marriage to a renowned New Zealand historian named Gilúviel Zippy.

We understand Mr. Zippy is the definitive writer on the subject of the battle for and the fall of Wellington, and our History Department is endeavoring to contact him for a possible lecture series. ("Zippy" is apparently a Maori name as our Linguistics Department informs us, but they are unsure as to the etymology of "Gilúviel".)

We received BW’s resignation letter from New Zealand only in the last week when it was found carelessly dropped on the lawn in front of our building. It had seemingly been delayed in the mail due to lack of postage.

There were a lot of what appeared to be what our Ornithology Department describes as eagle claw marks on the envelope, but fortunately our address was still legible. A complaint has been lodged with the postal authorities.

BW also informs us that her former team member BP has accepted a position with a firm of coopers in Lake-Town, which we must assume is also in New Zealand. They have a lucrative contract with the local landowner and are considering at least a small grant to the SRDME.

We regret the loss of these valued colleagues and wish them well in their future endeavors.

Position announcements for all vacancies will soon be posted in the Human Resources Department. SRDME is an equal employment opportunity workplace and encourages inter-species applications.

The date of the non-denominational memorial service for the dissection team will be announced in our scholarly bulletin as appropriate and in cooperation with the police. Floral tributes will be accepted at that time.

Please address all research inquiries to:

The Scientific Research Department of Middle-Earth
Department of Common Wood-Elf Studies
2460 Thranduil Lane
Esgaroth-upon-Mirkwood, Middle-Earth, 30216.