Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter for me.

*******

2. Other People’s Lives

Legolas slid his knife into the fish and efficiently cleaned out its stomach cavity, letting the guts fall into the waiting bucket so that they could be used later to fertilize Annael’s garden. “Did I tell you I decided to take the grey stallion?” Legolas asked. “He is faster than the roan, and I think he will tolerate tack if I need it.”

His friend looked at him in amusement. “You ‘think’ he will tolerate tack? Is this going to be another in your long line of half-wild horses?”

“My horses are not ‘half-wild,’” Legolas said with dignity. “They are spirited.”

Annael laughed. “The only well-trained horse you have ever owned was Sadron, and as I recall your adar picked him out and had him trained because you were still too young to teach him yourself. You simply cannot bear to ask them to bend their will to yours when you need to.” He finished with the fish he was cleaning and tossed it into the basket on top of several others that he had Legolas had already prepared. “Do you remember when my adar taught us to clean fish?” he asked.

“I do,” Legolas said. “He was amazingly patient.”

“That he was,” Annael agreed, looking off into the trees with a small smile.

Legolas watched him for a moment and then bent over the next fish, pleased by the fact that Annael was able to talk about his father again. For a long time after his father’s death, Annael had been so deep in grief that he had avoided all mention of him.

“I hear that the Western Border Patrol has seen an unusually large number of spiders,” Legolas said. “Has the Home Guard run into them too?”

Annael shook his head. “The border patrols are doing a good job of keeping them away from us.” He threw the last fish into the basket. “I am still relishing the taste of fresh fish again. I dried enough to last us through the winter, and we were happy to have it, but it just cannot compare with the taste of something taken out of a stream the same day.”

Legolas carried the bucket of offal to its temporary place at the end of the garden and then rejoined Annael to clean his knife and wash his hands in the basin of water that Annael’s mother had set out for them. Annael picked up the basket of fish and they went through the back door of the cottage into the kitchen, where Elowen was taking bread out of the oven and setting it on the table to cool. As it always had, this cottage smelled wonderful to Legolas.

“Fish for mid-day meal, Naneth,” Annael announced, holding up the basket.

“Good,” she said and then turned to Legolas, who had approached to kiss her forehead. “Good day, Legolas. Will you eat with us?”

“I would enjoy that.”

“Annael, while I cook the fish, why do you not ask Legolas what he thinks about your plan to add another sleeping chamber to the cottage?” Elowen suggested.

Annael beckoned Legolas out of the kitchen and led him outside again and around to the side of the cottage. “I was thinking about cutting a doorway here and building a sleeping chamber for Beliniel and me. We sleep on a flet during nice weather, but we have been using my old room during the winter, and, as you know, it is quite small.”

Legolas inspected construction of the wall in front of him and then looked at the space the new room would take. “If you make the new room long instead of square, you could do it without disturbing any trees.”

Annael nodded. “That is what I thought too.”

Legolas looked at him and smiled slowly. “Is there any particular reason that you might need more room in the cottage?”

Annael laughed a little self-consciously. “No. It is only that we are quite cramped in that small room. I would have built a new one before, but I did not like to make changes while my naneth was still mourning my adar.” He started back into the cottage, and Legolas followed to find that, while they had been outside, Annael’s wife had returned from her morning work tutoring a group of three elflings.  Annael’s face lit up at the sight of her, and he kissed her cheek. “Did you have a good morning?”

She put her hand on his chest. “I did,” she smiled. “Celerith read a whole story to the rest of us.”

“Good for her,” Annael approved, slipping his arm around her waist. “I knew you would be able to help her.” He looked at Legolas. “If you ever have a daughter, Legolas, this is the person you want to teach her.”

Legolas laughed. “We would not know what to do with a daughter in my family.”

“I suspect the king would have wonderful time with her,” Elowen said. “Grandchildren seem to me to be a pure joy.”

Legolas saw Annael and Beliniel exchange a private smile. There might not be an elfling on the way now, Legolas thought, but it would not be long. For their sake and for Elowen’s, he was glad.

“Come and eat,” Elowen invited, and they all took their places at the table, where Elowen dished up the fried fish and spring greens, while Beliniel sliced the still-warm bread.

Suddenly, with an almost shameful force, Legolas envied his friend this home, where he bore responsibilities that Legolas did not have, but also was so clearly loved and valued. Had he really been wishing to be assigned to a more dangerous duty only the day before? Annael was happy in the Home Guard, and for a moment, Legolas wondered if he could be contented in that posting too. He could find someone like Beliniel and bond with her and be a husband and father, not just Thranduil’s son. But even as he thought this, he knew it was not the path for him. For the time being, at least, he needed to serve his father’s realm by keeping evil away from the doorsteps of cottages like this one.

***

Eilian knocked on the door of the cottage, waited a moment, and then inclined his head politely to the Elf-woman who opened it. “Good afternoon, mistress. I understand Galelas is home, and I wonder if he is well enough to see me. I was his captain when he served in the Northern Border Patrol.”

She flushed pink. “Of course I know who you are, my lord. Come in. Galelas is certainly well enough to speak to you.”

Eilian followed her down the narrow hallway and through the door to the sitting room, where Galelas sat with a book in his lap and his right arm supported by a sling. His face was pale but he brightened visibly at the sight of Eilian. “Captain!” he cried and tried to struggle to his feet.

“Stay there,” Eilian said hastily.

Galelas’s mother hurriedly tugged a chair forward. “Do sit, my lord. I will make tea for us.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” Eilian said, accepting the chair.

“It is no trouble. With the feast tonight, I do not have to cook an evening meal, and I am ready for a bit of tea myself.” She bustled out of the room.

Eilian turned to Galelas. “How are you feeling?”

Galelas shrugged and then winced at whatever the movement did to his arm. “Well enough.”

“I was surprised to hear how active things have been along the western border. That area is usually rather quiet.”

Galelas smiled ruefully. “We were surprised too.”

“How did you get that?” Eilian gestured at his arm.

As Galelas hesitated, faint color rose into his cheeks. “We were in a battle with a good sized group of Orcs, and I am afraid I was too hasty and charged before the warrior I was paired with was ready.

Eilian blinked at the blunt confession. “That often leads to unfortunate consequences,” he finally said.

“I know. I remember you telling me that when I served under you, and truly, this was the first time I have been so foolish in a long time. But we had not seen Orcs for a while, and I just did not think.”

Eilian nodded gravely. When he had been Galelas’s captain, he had spent a fair amount of energy trying to curb the young warrior’s competitiveness and overconfidence in his own skills. Galelas was good with weapons, but waging battle was not a solo activity. Fortunately, Galelas had seemed open to correction, unlike his older brother, Tinár, whom Eilian had also commanded at one point. Tinár was incorrigibly arrogant and occasionally even endangered other warriors by his rashness. Galelas, on the other hand, was educable. The very fact that he had acknowledged his error to Eilian was a good sign, but he still needed to learn from his blunder, so it would not do for Eilian to be too sympathetic. Galelas had survived this mistake, but if he thought he could treat it lightly, he might not be so fortunate the next time.

“Here we are.” Galelas’s mother came back into the room with a large tray of tea and small cakes. Eilian jumped up to take it from her and place it on the table. Rather fussily, she waved him back to his chair and then brought him tea and one of the cakes. “Would you like tea, Galelas?” she asked.

“Yes, but no cake, please.”

Galelas was more or less Legolas’s age, so if he was turning down food, Eilian suspected that his arm hurt more than he admitted.

Galelas’s mother seated herself. “It is very kind of you to come and visit, my lord. Of course, I know you officers like to show respect to warriors who have been as brave as Galelas has.”

Eilian took a quick glance at Galelas, who had turned scarlet, and then hastily turned his eyes to his tea.

“It is nice to have him home, of course,” Galelas’s mother prattled on. “We are really looking forward to Tinár’s leave too, although we know how valuable he is to his patrol so I suppose that is selfish of us.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and a younger Elf-woman came into the room. Her brown hair was pulled severely back and braided away from her thin face. “I have finished hanging the laundry, Naneth, but I think someone else should have to bring it in.”

Galelas’s mother pressed her mouth shut, probably to avoid a sharp reply. “Lord Eilian is here, Gewiel. Do you know my daughter-in-law, my lord? This is Tinár’s wife, Gewiel.”

Eilian managed to overcome his astonishment that someone would marry Tinár and stood and bowed. Gewiel bobbed a little curtsy. “I am honored, my lord.” She came into the room and sat down, keeping her gaze on Eilian, who resumed his own chair.

“I was just telling Lord Eilian how much we are looking forward to Tinár’s leave,” Galelas’s mother said.

“Yes, Tinár has been so tireless in his devotion to the realm that he delayed his leave because he did not believe he could be spared,” said Gewiel.

Eilian did not know what to reply. If Tinár had delayed his leave, his fellow warriors had undoubtedly been most dismayed.

Eilian heard the front door of the cottage open and shut, and Galelas’s father came in. Eilian knew him because he was one of the armorers for the troops, making extremely fine arrows. He rose again. “Good day, Corfildor. I have been checking on Galelas here. I was sorry to hear he had been wounded.” He smiled at Galelas, who had shrunk back in his chair and lapsed into silence as his family appeared.

“Yes. It appears to be only a flesh wound though,” Corfildor said. “Galelas is lucky. Tinár once took an arrow so deeply in his side that he was bedridden for two weeks.”

Gewiel sniffed. “He was very irritable too, quite difficult to care for.”

“Nonsense,” said Galelas’s mother vigorously. “There is no one sweeter tempered than Tinár.”

Corfildor ignored them, took a chair across from Eilian, and leaned toward him. “I am sure Legolas has told you how greatly Tinár is valued in the Eastern Border Patrol.” He snapped his fingers. “But I forgot! You have been his captain, so you know first hand what a dab hand he is with weapons.”

He paused, evidently expecting Eilian to say something. “Tinár is very quick with a bow,” he allowed. Tinár was also wasteful with arrows and thus frequently had to leave the shelter of the trees and use his sword sooner than anyone else did, thus forcing one of his fellow warriors to take to the ground to guard his back, an unnecessary exposure to danger for both of them.

“And given that,” said Corfildor, “I wonder why Tinár is still waiting for promotion when warriors with far weaker skills have become officers.” Corfildor, his wife, and Gewiel all looked at Eilian expectantly.

“Adar, the captain is not the one who makes those decisions, and we should not be asking him about this,” said Galelas. Eilian glanced at him. His face was red but determined.

Corfildor turned to him with a frown. “Surely we are allowed to look out for your brother’s interests. We are only asking a question.”

Galelas opened his mouth to retort, but Eilian decided to save him the trouble. “The one you should ask about this is Ithilden,” he said wickedly, picturing his brother’s reaction if any of Tinár’s family should ever be so bold. He rose and set his teacup on a table. “Thank you for the tea. I fear I must be going now. Galelas, I hope to see you again while I am home on leave.”

Galelas gave him a grateful look, and Eilian strode toward the front door with Tinár’s parents and Gewiel all following him. “Good day to you,” he said and was out the door, shaking them off like burs he had picked up in the woods.

Poor Galelas, he thought. His own father often made it clear that Eilian’s behavior was not what Thranduil would have approved of, but at least he paid attention. It was nearly unheard of for a Wood-elf to leave his family’s house. One’s house was one’s identity and was even the means by which political order was created. The king ruled the realm, and each oldest male ruled his household. To Eilian, Galelas’s family was only a slightly-comic annoyance, but to Galelas, they were a permanent source of pain.

***

“One! Two! Three!” chanted Sinnarn and Mewyn together, and Calylad ran toward the gorge and leapt across, with one leg trailing, to land on the very edge of the opposite bank and scramble to safety, crowing with glee at his accomplishment. Sinnarn turned to grin at Mewyn, who made a face. Calylad had made good on his challenge. Now Sinnarn, too, would have to take the leap across the river. To refuse did not bear thinking about. In truth, Sinnarn did not want to refuse anyway. If Calylad had not issued the challenge this time, Sinnarn would have done it himself. Already, his heart was speeding up in pleasant anticipation.

But he suspected that Mewyn was less enthusiastic about how far their game had gone today and might even be about to decline the jump. That would leave only Calylad for Sinnarn to beat. He watched as Mewyn ventured to the edge of the gorge to look down the fifteen-foot drop to where a small river rushed northward to join the Forest River some two leagues away. The banks were close together here, which was why the river flowed so quickly. If Mewyn fell in, he was not likely to be hurt, but the drop was always frightening anyway, which was in truth one of the things Sinnarn liked about this game. Mewyn sighed. “I pass,” he said gloomily.

“Yes,” cried Calylad. “How about you, Sinnarn? Will you admit your complete and utter defeat?”

“Not likely,” Sinnarn snorted. Without waiting for them to count, he ran toward the bank and jumped. In an exhilarating rush, he sailed through the air, his arms extended to his sides, feeling like a great bird, and then he was reaching with his toes for the riverbank. To his dismay, his foot slipped, and for an appalling moment, he thought he was going to fall. He exerted every bit of muscle control he had to fling his weight forward, instead of back, and landed on his hands and knees in the grass on the bank.

Calylad was by his side immediately. “Are you all right?”

Sinnarn turned his head to grin at him and then sprang to his feet. “I am excellent!” he proclaimed and then had to duck away as Calylad laughed and slapped at the side of his head. In truth, Sinnarn’s heart was pounding wildly, letting him know how good it was to be alive and intact on the river bank.

“The wind must have blown you to safety at the last minute,” Calylad proclaimed. “I was certain you were going down that time.”

“Not likely,” Sinnarn boasted.

“Are you two finished, or are you going to jump again?” Mewyn called from the other bank.

“Jump again, of course,” Sinnarn cried. “No one has won yet.” Calylad rolled his eyes but did not protest. As Sinnarn knew quite well, his friend would never admit defeat until he had to. “It is my turn to set the challenge,” Sinnarn said. He eyed the river banks and then moved a yard to his left where the gap between them was a foot or so wider than the distance he and Calylad had just jumped.

Calylad raised an eyebrow. “Eager to take a swim, are you?” he taunted.

Sinnarn laughed, focused his gaze on the spot where he intended to land, and ran forward to launch himself into the air. Again, for too brief a second, he felt the exhilaration of flight, and then as he stretched out his leg, he suddenly realized that he was not going to reach the other edge. Given the nature of the game and his friends, this would not be the first time Sinnarn had missed a jump, and he wasted no time in twisting himself away from the rocky edge. Before he even had time to regret his failure, he felt the shock of cold, fast-running water closing over his head.

As he kicked his way to the surface, he was startled to see several large rocks buried in the water next to him, and he barely stopped himself from inhaling sharply. He and his friends had been sure there were no concealed rocks here. They had played this game here before and never seen them. I have been swept downstream, he thought. Surely we were not jumping over these!

His head broke clear of the water, and he shook strands of hair out of his eyes. He could hear his friends whooping with laughter and looked up to see them running along either bank above him. “Are you all right?” Mewyn gasped through his guffaws.

“Of course,” Sinnarn said. “I will meet you downstream.” He began swimming with the current, moving himself toward the eastern bank.

“The winner!” cried Calylad, waving his arms in the air. Then he turned and ran back upstream to where the gorge narrowed and he would be able to leap back across.

Sinnarn swam for a distance, until the river bank on his right lowered and he was able to pull himself out to rest on the grass. With the help of the river’s flow, he had beaten both of his friends to their meeting place. He emptied water from his shoes and then stripped off his tunic and wrung it out. He was pulling his tunic back over his head when a still-laughing Mewyn appeared. “Very graceful,” Mewyn sputtered, handing Sinnarn his belt and dagger.

Sinnarn grimaced good-naturedly but made no reply as he checked to make sure his knife was still securely attached to the belt and slipped his dagger into the built-in sheath in his shoe. Just then, a grinning Calylad trotted into sight. “Do not say anything,” Sinnarn warned, and Calylad held up his hands and laughed.

“Of course not,” he protested.  Then he laughed again. Sinnarn rolled his eyes.

“We really should be heading home,” Mewyn interposed happily. “The hour grows late, and I do not want to miss any of tonight’s feast.”

In sudden alarm, Sinnarn glanced at the westering sun and knew that Mewyn was right. He groaned. He was supposed to be home early so that he had time to don formal dress and walk to the Green in a formal procession with the rest of the royal family. “I need to hurry,” he moaned and yanked his shoes back on.

“Can you sit with us tonight?” Calylad asked.

“No,” Sinnarn said. “Not while we eat. Maybe afterwards.” He wished he could sit with his friends, but his father had recently begun requiring him to sit with the family on formal occasions. One of the ‘privileges’ of growing up, Ithilden had called it when Sinnarn protested. He felt a flare of irritation. His father had been making a point about adult responsibilities, of course, and Sinnarn hated being lectured on that topic, one that Ithilden seemed to be particularly fond of.

Without further conversation, Sinnarn made his way rapidly into the trees and then began leaping through the branches, with his two friends close behind. They reached home quickly, but probably not quickly enough, Sinnarn realized as they neared the Green. He could hear people chattering to one another and music was already playing. He groaned. He was going to be late. He waved to his friends and then made his way through the trees around the Green, staying out of sight as much as possible until he reached a side path that took him toward the stables and then allowed him to slip into the palace gardens and reach the bridge largely through shelter. He tore up the steps, through the antechamber, and down the hall that housed the family quarters, already pulling off wet clothes as he ran. The hall was empty and quiet. That was not a good sign, he thought apprehensively. Thranduil must have already led them all to the Green.

He dropped his wet things in a heap on the floor and yanked on the clothes that he found laid out on his bed, blessing his mother for saving him time as he did so. He clapped his circlet onto his head and was back out of his room within three minutes of having entered it. His hair was still wet, but it was braided and he did not think anyone would notice, and even if they did, they would probably assume he had just bathed. His stomach muscles contracted a little as he approached the Green and saw his family arrayed at the head table, with the king in their center. His parents were not going to be at all pleased with him. He stiffened his resolve, circled around behind the head table, and slid into the empty chair next to his mother just as the servants were began placing food on the table.

His mother turned her head sharply toward him and visibly relaxed. “There you are! I was worried,” she reproached him.

“I am sorry I am late,” he apologized.

From his mother’s other side, his father frowned at him but said nothing. Sinnarn looked gloomily down at his plate, which a servant was currently filling with roast venison. Ithilden would not scold him in public, but that did not mean he would refrain from speaking his mind once they were home again. Ah, well. There was nothing he could do about it now.

He ate a mouthful of the venison, knowing it was excellent but finding that he was less hungry than he had expected to be. He glanced up and saw Calylad wave to him from where he and Mewyn sat on the right side of the Green. Sinnarn returned the wave. His friends seemed to have no trouble savoring their meals, he noticed. Of course, their parents had allowed them to sit among a group of other Elves their age, and they were laughing and talking, not sitting silently at the end of a row of adults, listening to a conversation about how the fences in the upper pastures needed to be repaired.

A minstrel approached the table, harp in hand, and Sinnarn brightened. This minstrel had a sense of humor that Sinnarn liked. The minstrel bowed to Thranduil. “My lord, I have composed a small song in honor of your sons being home. With your permission?”

Looking pleased, Thranduil nodded, and the minstrel began plucking at his harp strings. Sinnarn missed the first few words of the song, however, because he was stealing looks down the table toward his uncles, feeling even guiltier about being late to a feast in their honor. They were both watching the minstrel and seemed to take no notice of him. He turned his attention to the music.

The minstrel was evidently just finishing a verse in honor of Legolas, who was laughing even as he blushed. “…and terror strikes the foe,” sang the minstrel, “but the ladies his softer side know.” Everyone laughed and clapped and the minstrel moved on to Eilian. “As bold as a boar in a battle, as merry as otters at play, Lord Eilian pleases the maidens, who admire him whichever way.” Eilian laughed and the minstrel went on, but Sinnarn’s attention was caught by the sight of people at the other end of the Green moving tables out of the way in preparation for dancing. Once the meal was over and the dancing started, his father usually allowed him to go to his friends.

He looked hopefully across his mother to his father. “Do not even ask,” said Ithilden grimly.

“Why not?” Sinnarn cried.

“Because you took your time with your friends already.”

Sinnarn pressed his mouth shut. Arguing would do no good whatever. His mother patted his hand sympathetically, but even that irritated him. Sometimes she treated him as if he were an elfling. The minstrel was done now, and both of his uncles got up to join the dance. Sinnarn slumped back in his chair. It was going to be a long evening. He looked to where Calylad and Mewyn had joined in a circle of dancing elves and wished with all his heart that his life were like theirs.