Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter.

*******

Chapter 5.  Concerning Maltanaur

“But did you see the spiders?” Cólithiel persisted.

Legolas hesitated, and Eilian looked up from the arrow shaft he was shaping to watch Legolas struggle with the temptation to give Cólithiel the answer she wanted to hear.  Eilian knew that Legolas had not even realized spiders were in the forest until he overheard warriors talking, and even then he seemed to find the notion of spiders exciting rather than frightening.  “No,” Legolas finally admitted.  “My ada came and found me then.”

Cólithiel made a disappointed sound, and Eilian looked down at his handiwork again, pleased by both his little brother’s unwillingness to lie and his matter-of-fact manner about having been lost.  Legolas had clung to his father yesterday, the day after his adventure, and cried when Thranduil left.  But today he had been excited when the two village children showed up in camp, and he had waved Thranduil a cheery goodbye.  Legolas had played happily with them near Eilian’s tent for most of the morning, although his face had looked strained when Eilian came out of his tent after ducking into it for just a moment to retrieve some feathers for fletching.

“It is your turn, Legolas,” said Isemir.  To Eilian’s amusement, Isemir was far less eager to hear about the spiders than the little maid was.  His face had grown paler with each question Cólithiel asked.

Legolas stepped forward eagerly, stopped, and carefully backed up until his feet were behind the line Isemir had drawn in the dirt.  Then he flung the acorn in his hand at the row of pebbles Isemir had arranged on a flat rock.  One of the pebbles skidded off the rock, and Legolas spun toward Eilian.  “Did you see that, Eilian?” he cried, his face flushed with pleasure. “I knocked a stone off.”

“So you did,” Eilian called.  “Good for you.”

Legolas turned back to the older children.  “Isemir won,” Cólithiel said, not dampening Legolas’s enthusiasm at all.  Isemir went to set the pebbles back on the rock.

A shadow flickered across the ground, and Eilian glanced up to find Thranduil standing next to him with his eyes on Legolas.  Eilian got hastily to his feet.  “How has he been?” Thranduil asked.

“Busy,” Eilian answered.

Thranduil laughed, and Legolas turned at the sound.  “Ada!” he cried and ran to fling his arms around his father’s waist.

Thranduil brushed the hair off his forehead.  “Did you have a good morning?”

“I did.  Isemir and Cólithiel showed me a new game.  I am not good at it yet though.”

“You are back early, Adar,” Eilian said.  “Has something happened?”

Thranduil smiled. “It has indeed.  I have reached what I think is a satisfactory agreement with the village leaders.  Ithilden is discussing some final details with them, so I took the opportunity to come back and see you and Legolas.”

Legolas looked up at his father with a face that was pink with pleasure, but Eilian shifted his weight uneasily.  He was not certain he liked the idea of Thranduil seeking him out like this.  His alarm intensified when Thranduil smiled at Legolas and said, “When I came through the camp just now, Cook told me he had apples and honey for you and your friends, Legolas.  You should go and ask him for them.”

Legolas’s eyes widened a little, and he whirled and ran back to Isemir and Cólithiel.   “Come,” he said excitedly.  They had heard what Thranduil said and needed no coaxing.  The three of them ran off and disappeared around Thranduil’s tent.

Thranduil sat on the blanket Eilian had laid on the ground.  “Sit down, Eilian,” he invited.

Eilian fiddled with the new arrow shaft in his hand.  “If you are going to care for Legolas now, I should get ready to go on duty.”

“You are not on duty for another hour yet,” Thranduil said.  His voice was easy, but Eilian noted that his father had taken the trouble to learn his schedule and dismay filled him.  “Sit,” Thranduil said.  Reluctantly, Eilian folded his legs under him and sank onto the blanket.

“I am sorry about Legolas’s language, Adar.  He crept into my bed one night and put his feet on my back, and it just slipped out.”

Thranduil nodded.  “I did not believe you would teach him such things deliberately, although if you used the words less yourself, they would not be so likely to ‘slip out.’”  Eilian made no reply.  His father was right, after all.  Thranduil looked off into the forest and smiled to himself.  “When I was your age, I had a friend whose language would set fire to the forest.  He is one of the most valiant warriors I know, and I treasure his friendship, but I am not sure I would want him spending time with Legolas.”

“I am sorry,” Eilian repeated.  What more did his father want him to say?  An appalling thought occurred to him.  “Are you saying you want me to stay away from Legolas?”

Thranduil looked shocked.  “Of course not.  You are good for one another.  He takes joy in your presence, and anyone can see how much you value his affection.”

Eilian relaxed.  “I will be more careful of what I say around him.”  The promise was easy to make; he had already decided to watch his tongue around his little brother.

“Good,” Thranduil said, “but that was not really what I wanted to speak to you about.”

Eilian squirmed under his father’s hawklike gaze.  Thranduil did not seem angry, but in Eilian’s experience, it was seldom a good thing when his father wanted to talk to him.

“Since you have been home this time, Eilian, it has become obvious to me that something is troubling you.  Will you not tell me what it is?  I would help you if I could.”

Eilian was startled into silence.  For a moment he considered denying that anything was wrong, but he could not bring himself to lie outright any more than Legolas had been able to.  “Why do you say that?” he temporized.

“Because you are drinking yourself into oblivion on a nightly basis,” Thranduil said bluntly, “and are spending your time with elves you would ordinarily dismiss as frivolous fools.  You are better than that, Eilian, and I cannot bear to see you hurting yourself so.”

Eilian looked down at the arrow shaft, clutched tightly in his hand.  His heart sped up a little, caution warring in his breast with the desire to talk to someone about what happened.  Should he take the chance and talk to his father?

His father placed a long, elegant hand on Eilian’s knee.  “Tell me about it,” Thranduil coaxed.  “You must have a reason.  Tell me what it is.”

Eilian stared at his father’s hand and drew a deep breath.  “I do not know how much Ithilden told you about the last mission Maltanaur and I were on.  You know we found Orcs.  Did you know that I was supposed to go back to get the rest of the patrol while Maltanaur kept watch?”

“No.”  Thranduil’s voice was steady enough to be encouraging, and Eilian went on with his tale.

~*~*~

About two weeks earlier

Maltanaur glared at him fiercely and said, “If you take a single unnecessary risk, I swear I will make you sorry, Eilian.”

“Stop worrying.”  Eilian leapt to the next tree to start his journey to camp.  He kept his gaze on the shadowy cave opening, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement within so he would know whether Orcs were indeed still in the cave rather than out on their night’s hunt.  The smell of meat suggested that at least some of the band might have been left behind to tend to the smoke pit.  Todith would want to know what he was facing when he brought the patrol and set up an ambush.

He slowed his pace, considered what he might do, and began to drop down through the branches trying to get into a better position for seeing into the cave entrance.  Above him, he heard a slight stir in the branches and grinned to himself.  Maltanaur would be fuming, but he would never risk betraying their presence by making a sound.  Eilian quickened his pace.  Maltanaur would not say anything, but he could descend silently through the trees like an avenging eagle and seize Eilian by the scruff of his neck.  He wanted to take a quick look and then be on his way before Maltanaur decided to do just that.

His eyes still on the cave entrance, he leapt toward a branch about ten feet above the ground.  He felt the branch beneath his foot, and then suddenly, he felt it slide away as his foot skidded on a patch of ice and shot off into empty space.  He grabbed frantically for a handhold.  His fingertips touched a branch, scrabbled for a hold, and then touched only air, and he was falling.  He twisted quickly and landed with a half roll, ending flat on his back struggling to draw air back into his lungs.

“Who’s there?” growled a voice, and heavy steps came from the direction of the cave.

So Orcs were in the cave, he thought stupidly.  Then his mind caught up with his body’s situation, and his heart began to pound, and he sprang to his feet.  He drew his sword and whirled to find two surprised looking Orcs descending upon him with their scimitars raised.  He parried the first blow and backed up quickly, trying to keep both Orcs in front of him.  He feinted at the one to the right, and slashed at the other one, knocking his scimitar aside and cutting him across the ribcage.

With a roar that startled even Eilian, Maltanaur leapt from the trees, landed behind the Orcs, and before they had time to take in his presence, he drove his sword between the ribs of the one Eilian had wounded.  Eilian took advantage of the other Orc’s surprise to leap forward and shove the tip of his sword into the Orc’s belly.

Maltanaur had his foot in the back of the Orc he had killed and was struggling to yank his sword free.  From the corner of his eye, Eilian glimpsed a blur of movement.  “Look out!” he shouted and jumped toward his keeper, but not in time to prevent the Orc who had run out of the cave from stabbing Maltanaur in the back.

Maltanaur’s eyes widened.  He let out a faint “oof” and crumbled to the ground.  With a cry, Eilian swung his sword at the third Orc and cut halfway through his neck.  Black blood spurted, and the Orc fell.

Eilian raced to Maltanaur’s side. “Are you all right?” he cried inanely.  He knew that his keeper was certainly not “all right.”

“Check the cave,” Maltanaur gasped.  Cursing himself for a fool, Eilian scrambled to his feet and ran to do as he had been bid.  He flattened himself next to the cave entrance, scanned as much of it as he could see from that position, and then rushed through the opening with his sword ready to strike.  The cave was a large one, and although he saw no Orcs, he took the time to check the edges for hidden openings.  He did not want to be surprised while tending to Maltanaur.  He found nothing and sheathed his sword to run back out and drop to his knees by his keepers’ side.

Blood spread wetly across the back of Maltanaur’s tunic.  “I am sorry,” Eilian moaned, but Maltanaur did not answer and Eilian realized he was unconscious.  He used his knife to enlarge the cut the Orc’s scimitar had made and looked at the wound.  It was deep, he realized and clamped his hand over it as he fumbled for his emergency healing kit.  “I am sorry,” he gasped again, working frantically to stem the bleeding.  “That was my fault.  I am sorry.”  But Maltanaur lay pale and silent.

~*~*~

“As he has done ever since,” Eilian said.  “I got him back to camp, and Todith had us on our way home within the hour.  The healers say he is out of danger, but if that is true, why does he not wake up?”  He could hear his voice trembling.

Thranduil squeezed his knee.  “The body takes its own time to heal,” he said.  “Trust the healers.  Maltanaur will wake up when he is ready.”

Eilian shook his head.  “He said he would make me sorry if I took any risks, and instead he is the one who paid for my stupidity.”

“But I think you are sorry,” Thranduil said, with surprising gentleness.  “And if you let your regret teach you some wisdom, perhaps your sorrow will not have been wasted.”

Eilian looked at him.  Instead of the disapproval he had expected, he found his father’s face soft with sympathy.  “I am going to try to learn,” he vowed.  “If Maltanaur recovers, I swear I will never put him in that kind of position again.”

Thranduil patted his knee and took his hand away.  “Maltanaur will be happy to hear that when he awakens.”

Eilian drew a deep breath and lifted his eyes to his father’s face.  Thranduil looked remarkably calm, and although Eilian knew his father could mask his emotions well when he wanted to, he was comforted.  Perhaps what he had done had not been so unforgivable after all.

Thranduil pursed his lips.  “Ithilden does not seem to know what you just told me,” he said mildly.

Eilian grimaced and looked away.  Well, he had not expected to escape all blame, and his father’s observation was gentler than what Eilian had been saying to himself.  “I did not have time to tell Todith all the details.  I said it was my fault, but he did not ask me anything further.  I will tell him when we go back.  If we go back,” he added soberly.  The idea that he might report to Ithilden directly was simply not something Eilian intended even to consider.

At that moment, Legolas ran back around Thranduil’s tent, looking sticky with honey around the mouth.  “Ada, my friends had to go home,” he said.  “Will you stay with me now?”

“I will,” Thranduil said grasping at Legolas’s wrists before the child could put his hands on the wool of Thranduil’s cloak.  “Perhaps we will start by washing your hands and face.”  He rose, so Eilian did too.  But Legolas hung back to look at the shaft in Eilian’s hands.

“Is that for an arrow?” he asked.

“Yes,” Eilian said.

“I should learn to make arrows.  I am going to be a warrior too.”

A slow smile spread across Thranduil’s face.  “Legolas, would you like to sleep in the warriors’ tent with Eilian tonight?”

“Yes!” cried Legolas, his eyes lighting up.

Eilian nearly groaned.  Ithilden had told him that Legolas’s adventure had left him restless in the night.  He had apparently spent most of the previous night in Thranduil’s cot, with their father hanging off the other edge.  “I will be on duty until late,” he protested.

Thranduil grinned.  “You can come and get Legolas when you are finished.  This is his last chance,” Thranduil added wickedly.  “We will go home in the morning.”

Eilian laughed.  “All right.  I will come and get you, brat.”  He looked at Thranduil, who at least was willing to trust Legolas to him.  “Thank you, Adar.”

Thranduil nodded.  “Any time,” he said and led Legolas away.

***

Eilian slid from his horse as grooms came running from the stables to meet the king’s party.  Ordinarily, Eilian would have cared for his horse himself, but as they had neared home, he had become increasingly anxious to know how Maltanaur was doing.  “Would you mind taking him?” he asked a groom, patting the horse’s neck.

“Of course not, my lord,” the groom said and clucked to the horse to get him to follow him.

Thranduil was reaching up to lift Legolas off his stallion as Eilian approached.  “I am going to the infirmary, Adar. I will not be late for evening meal.”

Thranduil nodded.  “Take your time.  I know you have been worrying about Maltanaur.”

“Is your guard better?” Legolas asked with a frown.  “Are you going away?”

“I hope he is better,” Eilian answered, ruffling Legolas’s hair and privately thinking that if Legolas’s wishes ruled the world, poor Maltanaur would be in the infirmary forever.  “But I do not expect we will be going anywhere just yet even if he is.”  Satisfied, Legolas took Thranduil’s hand, and the two of them walked off toward the palace.

“Are you going toward the training fields?” Ithilden asked.  “I will walk with you.  I want to check on how things have gone in my office while I was away.”

Eilian accepted the company.  In his opinion, Ithilden’s very competent aide was capable of handling almost anything that could have occurred in Ithilden’s absence and might have been glad of the respite, but he held his tongue.  Ithilden would need to see for himself that all was well.  They parted at the entrance to infirmary.  “I hope Maltanaur is better,” Ithilden said.  “Give him my regards.”  Eilian nodded and Ithilden walked away.

No one was in the infirmary corridor, so Eilian simply opened the door to Maltanaur’s room and let himself in.  For a moment, he did not take in what he saw.  Then the empty bed registered, and his breath caught.  He whirled and raced back into the hallway where a healer was just emerging from another room.  “What happened?” he demanded.  “Is he--?”  He could not bring himself to finish the sentence.

She smiled.  “Calm yourself, my lord.  He regained consciousness two days ago and demanded to be moved to his cottage.  He made such a nuisance of himself that we finally gave in.  He is home with his wife.  She seemed to know how to manage him.”

Eilian realized that his mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut.  “Thank you,” he cried and half ran out of the infirmary and along the path to Maltanaur’s cottage.  He arrived on the doorstep a little breathless, more from excitement than from his run.  He knocked, and a moment later, Nindwen opened the door.

She smiled at him.  “Come in, Eilian.  I heard the king was back and have been expecting you.  He is in bed, although I am not sure how much longer I am going to be able to keep him there.”

Eilian followed her down the hall to the bedroom.  Maltanaur turned his head on the pillow and smiled.  “Ah.  So you have managed to stay in one piece even without me.  You must be growing wiser by the day.”

Eilian approached the bed.  “How do you feel?”

“As if I have lain in a bed for far too long.”

“And you will stay there a while longer yet,” Nindwen said bravely.  “I will go and make some tea.”  She disappeared, and Eilian took the chair next to the bed.

For a second, they sat in silence.  Then Eilian said what he had been waiting to say for so long. “I am sorry.”

Maltanaur smiled slightly.  “I heard you saying that in my dreams while I was in the infirmary.”

“I said it really.  I said it every time I went to see you.  You were hurt because I failed to heed your advice, and I am so sorry.”

Maltanaur sighed.  “True enough.  When we get back to the patrol, I intend to make you take all of my clean-up duty for a month.”

Eilian cringed.  Maltanaur was far too forgiving.  “That seems a small penalty to pay given what happened.”

Maltanaur grinned at him.  “Two months?”

Eilian gave a weak laugh.  “Done.”  He leaned forward.  “I want you to know that I have decided I will never put you in that kind of position again, Maltanaur.  I give you my word.”

Maltanaur raised an eyebrow.  “Your word?  Now that sounds promising.”

“You can count on it,” Eilian vowed.  He hesitated.  “I may make mistakes,” he said tentatively.

“Mistakes I can deal with,” Maltanaur said.  “Stupidity wears me down.”

Eilian laughed.  The door opened, and Nindwen came into the room carrying a tray with tea and slices of bread and butter.  Eilian jumped to his feet to take it from her.  “I cannot stay,” he said regretfully as he set the tray on the bedside table.  “I am expected at home.  But I will come back.”

“Do,” Maltanaur said.  “I will be in the sitting room the next time.”

Eilian laughed again and left the room with his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

***

Ithilden strode into his aide’s office, looking forward to once again feeling that he knew what was happening throughout the Woodland Realm and was in control of how his warriors would respond to it.  “Good afternoon, Calith,” he said as his aide sprang to his feet.

“Good afternoon, my lord.  Welcome back.”  Ithilden handed Calith his cloak and passed through into this own office, where a small pile of papers sat in the middle of his desk with a larger one off to one side.  Calith followed him to stand in the doorway.  “I sorted out the things I thought you would want to see right away,” he said.  “The rest of it can wait.”

Ithilden nodded and sat down.  Calith started to leave but then turned back with a smile.  “You will be pleased to hear the Maltanaur is out of the infirmary, my lord.”

Ithilden was genuinely delighted.  “Excellent!  Eilian will be glad. He has been worried, I think.”  Calith left, and Ithilden reached for the smaller pile of reports thinking that while Eilian would be glad, Legolas would not.  Indeed, Ithilden himself was a little dismayed at the knowledge that he would soon have to let Eilian go south again.  He had secretly been pleased to have his brother in the safer Home Guard.

He toyed with the edge of a report for a moment.  He had let Eilian go south for the first time when Eilian had been a warrior for only six months, startling himself and outraging their father.  He smiled wryly, remembering the argument in Thranduil’s study.  Maltanaur had more or less been the deciding factor that time too.

~*~*~

Twenty years earlier

Temporarily suspending his disbelief over what the Home Guard captain was telling him, Ithilden finished reading the captain’s report on the spider hunt that had taken place the previous night.  He noted the fact that the captain was quite sure his warriors had now gotten rid of all the spiders in the area, and then went back to the report’s beginning, trying to take in the role that Eilian had played in learning that the creatures were still nearby.  Deler had been meticulously detailed in his account.  Eilian had wanted the webbing to play a joke on someone who had encouraged two maidens to take Eilian’s clothes while he was diving into the river near the Glade.  Deler believed Eilian had been drunk at the time.  Ithilden rubbed his temples.  What in Arda was he going to do with his seriously undisciplined brother?

“My lord?”

Ithilden looked up to find Calith in the doorway.  “Yes?”

“Maltanaur asks to speak with you.”

Ithilden blinked.  “Send him in.”  He felt a twinge of apprehension.  What if Maltanaur wanted to say he was no longer willing to put up with Eilian’s antics and wanted to be reassigned?  No, Ithilden assured himself.  Maltanaur would have gone to Thranduil with that piece of news.

Calith stepped aside, and Maltanaur entered and saluted.  Ithilden waved him into the chair in front of his desk.  “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes.”  Maltanaur drew a deep breath.  “I am worried about Eilian.”

That makes two of us, Ithilden thought.  “How so?” he asked noncommittally.  Maltanaur probably knew more about Eilian’s behavior than Ithilden did, but there was no harm in being discreet.

“He is bored,” Maltanaur said, “and that is a dangerous state for him.  If you do not do something soon, he will go so far that he cannot find his way back, and all his potential will be ruined.”

“What do you suggest I do?” Ithilden demanded.  “You know as well as I do that Deler has assigned him palace guard duty and anything else unpleasant he can think of.”

Maltanaur waved his hand impatiently.  “All of that is only making things worse.  What Eilian needs is a challenge. He needs to be so absorbed in meeting some demand he sees as important that he has no time to even think of trouble, let alone get into it.”

“Such as what?”

Maltanaur leaned forward.  “He wants to join the Southern Patrol.  Let him do it.  Let me take him south.  I will watch him and discipline him if he needs it, but I believe he will settle down when he faces real trouble, and he will become what he is capable of being instead of frittering his time away like an overgrown child.”

For a moment, Ithilden was speechless.  “Are you mad?  He thinks spider webbing is a plaything!   How could I possibly justify sending him south?”

Maltanaur eyed him shrewdly.  “You mean explain it to the king?  That would be difficult, I grant.”

“Yes, it would,” Ithilden said with heartfelt agreement.

“You would have to warn Todith what he was getting, of course,” Maltanaur conceded, “and the agreement would be that if Eilian was too rash or unbiddable, he would come home.  But Eilian would respond well to such an assignment, my lord.  I know he would.  He would take it as a sign of your faith in him, and he would strive to live up to that.”

Ithilden stared at him in dismay.  What Maltanaur was suggesting sounded only too plausible.  “He is not ready,” he protested.

“Let me take the next two months to make him ready,” Maltanaur said, “and then assign us to the south.”

Ithilden turned the idea over in his head.  “You would be willing to leave your family?”

“My daughter is grown, and my wife would understand.  Eilian is too good to let him be spoiled like this.”

Ithilden looked down at the report he had just been reading.  He is right, he thought.  Eilian cannot go on like this.  “Very well,” he said heavily.  “I must speak to the king first, but if he agrees, I will tell Eilian that he can go south in two months if he does well at whatever extra training you can him.  He would stay there only as long as you and Todith agree.”

Maltanaur drew a deep breath.  “Good.  You will not regret this, Ithilden.  He will thrive, you will see.”

“I hope so,” Ithilden said bleakly.  His father would have his head if Eilian came to harm because Ithilden had misjudged his readiness.  And their mother would never forgive him.

~*~*~

And Eilian had thrived, for the most part anyway, Ithilden thought now.  Todith was sometimes rather vague about events, and Ithilden suspected that Maltanaur still used a firm hand occasionally, but in the south, Eilian had turned into a warrior who was respected and valued by his captain and his mates.  His drinking since Maltanaur was hurt was unusual, rather than the constant source of worry it had been twenty years earlier.

Thranduil said he had talked to Eilian while they were still at the village, and he thought Eilian would settle down a bit.  Ithilden fervently hoped so.  With Maltanaur on the mend, Eilian’s return to the south was only a matter of time, and Ithilden would have to once again resign himself to letting his brother go.

Why can they not all stay where I can keep an eye on them? he wondered sadly and then realized how childish he sounded.  The world was wide and cruel, and he was going to have to let those he loved wander in it without him on guard at their side.  It could not be helped.  He would do what he could, and then he had to let them go.

***

Maltanaur settled happily into the chair, as Nindwen fussed about putting a cushion behind his sore back and draping a blanket over his legs.  “I wish you would just stay in bed for a few more days,” she mourned.

He caught at her hand.  “When I get tired, I will go back.  Do not worry so, Nindwen.  I have no intention of falling unconscious again just yet.”

She smiled weakly and kissed the top of his head.   “You frightened me.”

“I know.  I am sorry.”  A knock sounded at the door.  “That will be young Thranduilion,” Maltanaur said and released her hand.  He leaned back carefully to find a comfortable position while he waited for Nindwen to admit Eilian.  He was pleased with his charge just now.  Eilian was a bit wild sometimes, but like his father, he treated a promise as sacred, and if Eilian had learned a lesson from this experience, then Maltanaur counted his pain well worth it.

Nindwen appeared in the sitting room doorway with an odd smile on her face.  “You were right,” she said.  “Young Thranduilion would like to talk to you.” She stepped aside to reveal not Eilian’s tall, lean figure, but a small, determined-looking Legolas.

Maltanaur gaped at him.  Legolas’s mouth was set in an expression that reminded Maltanaur of no one so much as Thranduil.  “Go in and sit down, Legolas,” Nindwen invited.  “I will get some cider.”  A little to Maltanaur’s dismay, she left the room while Legolas marched in and sat on a stool near Maltanaur’s knees.

Maltanaur smiled at the child.  “It is kind of you to visit me, Legolas.”

“Are you better now?”

“I am getting better by the day.”  Maltanaur was absurdly pleased by Legolas’s concern.  He would never have expected Legolas to worry about him.

“Are you and Eilian going away soon?”

Maltanaur’s warm glow faded.  Suddenly he thought he knew exactly what Legolas was concerned about, and he doubted very much if it was his health.  “We will be home for a while yet.”

Legolas chewed the inside of his cheek.  “You got hurt,” he observed.

Maltanaur nodded.

“How can you guard Eilian if you get hurt?”

Maltanaur looked at the child’s anxious face and felt his heart twist with pity.  This little one had lost his mother less than a year ago.  Maltanaur knew that Eilian doted on the elfling and thought Legolas returned his brother’s affection.  “I will try not to let it happen again,” Maltanaur pledged.  He was aware of how ridiculous the promise was, but Legolas seemed pleased by it.

“If you do not guard Eilian well, I will be very angry,” Legolas declared in a severe tone that once again reminded Maltanaur of the king.

“I will remember that,” Maltanaur said.  He eyed the elfling thoughtfully.  Eilian treasured this bossy little creature who was so worried about him.  Perhaps Maltanaur could make use of that.  Eilian would not want to make Legolas unhappy.  Maltanaur smiled at the thought.  Yes, he could use that.

Nindwen came back into the room with cider and slices of gingerbread.  Legolas hesitated over the plate of gingerbread.  “Turgon and Annael are waiting for me,” he said.  “May I take them some gingerbread?”

“Of course you may,” Nindwen said and put three slices in his cupped hands.

He stood.  “Thank you for having me.  I had a lovely time.”

Maltanaur could not help laughing.  “Come again any time, Legolas.  And do not worry.  I will take good care of Eilian for you.”  Legolas left the room with an amused Nindwen attending him.  As Maltanaur took a drink of his cider, he remembered the day he had told Thranduil he would be happy to watch over his second son.

“Are you sure?” Thranduil had asked.  “He will be a handful.  I hope you do not wind up regretting your decision.”

Maltanaur smiled to himself.  Of course he did not regret his decision.  Life was long and sometimes tedious.  Who in his right mind would ever regret becoming part of the life of the endlessly amusing members of the House of Oropher?

The End