Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me, and I’ll put them back safely when I’m done!

Author’s Note: I would like to thank all of my reviewers. I don’t have the time to reply to each one of you personally, but I am always eager to hear what you think of my story. Thank you so much for reading!

    Jay of Lasgalen has graciously allowed me to use the term “Lord El”. Thanks, Jay!

Chapter Twelve: Elvish Interludes:

     Lady Elanorallie, daughter of Elrohir, Lord of Imladris, was a patient child. She was not prone to stating her mind, or to loudly pursue an interest, except in matters of dire consequence. This, alas, was one of those matters, and Ella, as she was known, was standing calmly in front of Eldarion and Elfwine, ready to take her case to the kings and fathers, if necessary.

    “He needs a bath, Eldarion. Don’t you take baths every other day?” she demanded.

    “Well, yes,” said Eldarion. “But giving him a bath would mean that he could escape easily.”

     Ella sighed. “What if we let King Thranduil watch over him? That way, he wouldn’t escape, and yet he would still be clean. Please, Eldarion, this is somewhat degrading.”

    Degrading? Legolas thought weakly. That was one word for it. He had not gone so long without a decent bath since the Quest, and it was beginning to irritate him. All he wanted was to be free of these blasted children, for Arda’s sake!

      Eldarion looked over at Legolas, who seemed distinctly ruffled. It was true; the Elf did need a bath. To think of it, sending him to Thranduil was a good idea. Eldarion had met with the King of Mirkwood, and knew that he was a fair and honest Elf, if he was just a little imposing.

    “Very well,” he sighed. “Come on, Legolas, let’s find your father.”

     Legolas did not deign to reply.

It was a merry company that wound its way to Thranduil’s private rooms. The king was alone in his chamber when a knock came at his door, and stood to open it. He bit back a smile when he saw his son standing trussed up amongst a group of small children.

   “Hello, my lords and ladies, what may I do for you?” Thranduil asked.

   Ella curtsied to the king. “Prince Legolas needs a bath, sir. We decided to bring him to you because he would not like us to wash him, and we thought that you would prevent him from escaping. Will you please bathe him for us?” she asked.

    Thranduil’s eyebrows rose, but he smiled at the little elfling. “Yes, of course. Come back in three hours, and I promise to have him shining with cleanliness.”

     Ignoring the smoldering glower of his son, Thranduil took the lead rope from little Rowan and led Legolas into his room. With a last glance back at the two elf lords, the children walked away.

     “Well, you seem to be getting on quite well with them,” Thranduil remarked.

     Legolas gave him a look that would have melted ice, so full of fire it was. “Would you kindly untie my hands, adar?”

   Thranduil laughed and untied the well-done knots. Once he was released, Legolas stretched to his full height, rubbing his chafed wrists with relish.

     “Oh, I thought I’d never be free of them!” he cried. “Aragorn, Eomer and Faramir have trained their children well.”

     “Yes, as has Elrohir,” remarked Thranduil dryly. “Who would believe that such an escapade would ensue in Minas Tirith? I doubt that such a competition  has ever occurred between Elves and Men. If there has been one, it is beyond my memory. Now, my son, I believe that you would like to use the bath house?”

*****

    “We lost to a group of mortal children!” wailed Elladan. “I’m not blaming you, Zinfandel, but how in Arda’s name did that happen?”

    Zinfandel shrugged and took a long pull at his wine. “They were Rohirric horses, my lord. The children selected a Rohirrim to ride. We were in trouble the minute they did that. You know that all the Rohirrim are practically raised in the saddle!”

   Elladan nodded, still looking dejected, and Faramir patted his knee. “Don’t worry, Lord El. I’m sure that you’ll win the next time around. After all, Gimli’s planning it. I heard the King say so.”

    Elladan merely shook his head, wondering what devilry the dwarf would cook up. It was true that Legolas and Gimli were good friends, and that might encourage the dwarf to aid the Elves, but he was also a good friend with the children. This friendship might encourage him to aid them. Perhaps, though, he would not take sides. That was a heartening, but highly unlikely, thought.

    The Elves lapsed into silence-or what passed for silence. Some of them were singing songs, and Lindir was telling Faramir stories about dragons and the fall of Gondolin. The little hobbit was listening with wide eyes, and Elladan absently hoped that Lindir wasn’t scaring him too badly.

    A few peaceful moments passed, then the door to the parlor was flung open Elrohir stormed in, looking like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

    “They are wagering on us!” he wailed. “Wagering! As though we are horses in a race!”

    Elladan and Zinfandel exchanged an amused look as Elrohir helped himself to a glass of wine and flopped into a nearby chair.

    “Whatever do you mean, El?” asked Elladan. “Who are wagering on us?”

    “Only the fine people of Gondor,” grumbled Elrohir. “They are openly wagering on us and the children in the market place and the pubs. It is degrading, I tell you!”

     Elladan smiled at his twin. Elrohir had gone out several hours ago, ostensibly to “have a look around”. It seemed that his search had not gone too well. “What did they do when they saw you?” he asked.

     Elrohir shrugged. “Nothing. They wished me luck and went on with their business.”

     Elladan nodded. “That’s good, I suppose. All we can do now is wait to see what Gimli devises as his plan.”

     Elrohir nodded. He could only hope that it would be in their favor. There was no possible way he could bear to lose to children.

*****

     After Legolas bathed, he dressed in fresh, clean clothes that his father had sent a servant for, and fell asleep on his father’s bed. He was so grateful for a comfortable sleeping place that he forgot to be angry with his father for not helping to get him away from the miscreant children for good.

     Thranduil spent some time reading in the window seat. At teatime, he sent for a light meal and woke his son up. Legolas sat up and rubbed his eyes.

     “Where has the afternoon gone?” he asked, yawning. “You had to say three hours only.”

    Thranduil smiled. “At least I got you away for that amount of time. Here, eat.”

    Legolas grinned a little weakly and gratefully took the plate of food from Thranduil. They ate in silence for a while, before a knock sounded at the door. It was Theodwyn and Rowan, sent to fetch Legolas.

     “We’re here for Legolas, please,” announced Theodwyn, curtsying to Thranduil.

     Thranduil bowed back at her. “Yes, of course, my lady. Allow me to make a suggestion, though. Elves do not thrive very long when they are tied up. If you promise to only tie Legolas around one wrist, I will make him swear not to run away from any of you.”

    Theodwyn and Rowan glanced at each other, and Theodwyn nodded. “All right.”

    “Legolas, do you swear not to run away from these children?” Thranduil asked.

     Legolas sighed. “Yes, Adar.”

     Thranduil nodded, and allowed Theodwyn and Rowan to tie Legolas and lead him away. He watched them as they walked away, smiling to himself.

     “Children,” he murmured. “What will they be up to next?”

     From around the corner, where she was hiding and listening, Arwen Undomiel smiled to herself.

TBC