XI: Have Yourself a Merry Little Penninor

A/N: Dialogue in italics in this and in subsequent chapters indicates the person is speaking Westron rather than Sindarin.

****

The next morning Estel felt much better. When Legolas did not come to escort him to the dining hall, he decided to make his own way there. He stopped at the infirmary on the way so Nessiel could look at his stitches.

"You’re looking much better this morning than you did last night, Lord Aragorn," Nessiel said as he came in.

Estel shrugged. "Adar placed me in healing sleep."

The healer nodded and removed the bandage from his head. "I do not think you will need this bandage anymore, Lord Aragorn," the healer said. "You appear to heal more quickly than most Men, however, I will not remove the stitches for another two days." She dismissed him with a smile.

Thanking the healer, Estel continued to the dining hall. There were not as many people there as usual, probably, he reflected, because it being Yule many of the elves were busy preparing for the festivities. While the elves celebrated the New Year in the month of Gwaeron, it had become a tradition in both Imladris and the Woodland Realm to celebrate the Yuletide with their Edain allies. And truth to tell, elves were not averse to celebrating for any reason or no reason.

"Penninor ’elir, mellon nîn."

Estel looked up from his plate to see Legolas standing before him, a cautious smile on his face. Estel smiled back. "Penninor ’elir, Legolas."

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"I am well, and you?"

Legolas shrugged. "Adar gave me a stern lecture about being irresponsible, but otherwise I am fine."

Estel could not help smiling and Legolas gave him a blank stare. "You find it amusing?"

"Only because I’ve been the victim of a stern lecture once or twice myself and even my brothers who have seen an entire Age have been given stern lectures either by Adar or Glorfindel or, Valar help us, Erestor from time to time. If nothing else, Legolas, you’re in good company."

"I would think you are in very good company, indeed," came a voice full of amusement.

Estel and Legolas both started and then blushed. Neither had noticed Mithrandir’s approach. Legolas bowed and Estel had the presence of mind to stand and make his own bow.

"Penninor ’elir, Lord Mithrandir," Estel said. Legolas echoed him.

"Now, now, lads. Let’s not be so formal. Mithrandir will do or even Gandalf."

Both Estel and Legolas gave the Wizard a questioning look. Mithrandir smiled. "Gandalf. They call me that in the Bree-land and among the Periannath, as well as in Dale."

"Would you care to join us, Lo... I mean, Mithrandir?" Estel asked.

"I think I will," Mithrandir said, taking a seat and placing his hat and staff on the floor next to him.

"Allow me," Legolas said and went to the sideboard to fill a couple of plates, placing one before the Wizard while Estel resumed his own seat.

For a few moments the three busied themselves with eating, though Estel noticed that Legolas was pushing his food around his plate rather than actually consuming it.

"What’s wrong, mellon nîn?" he asked Legolas quietly.

The elf kept his eyes on his plate and shrugged. "Nothing."

"Then why are you not eating?"

Now Legolas looked up and Estel forced himself not to look away, for there was a light in the elf’s eyes that most mortals would have found impossible to behold for any length of time, but Estel had been raised among elves and so was not so easily affected.

"Well?" he asked, refusing to be intimidated.

Legolas sighed, relenting, and returned his eyes to his plate, but still did not speak. Estel glanced at Mithrandir, who had followed the exchange with some interest but had not intervened. The Wizard returned Estel’s look with one of his own, then turned his attention to the elf.

"You’re acting like an elfling, Legolas," Mithrandir said gruffly. "I thought I taught you better than that."

Legolas blushed and bit his lip but refused to look up. Now Estel was alarmed. He could not fathom what could be troubling his friend and found it disconcerting. However, years of dealing with young Dúnedain recruits had taught him one or two things. Affecting a casual approach, he drained his teacup and shrugged.

"Fine by me. If you’d rather sulk, we can leave you to it." So saying he started to rise but stopped when Legolas put a hand on his arm. Estel glanced at Mithrandir who merely smiled back at him and sat back down, willing to wait until the elf was ready to talk.

"I am sorry for yesterday," Legolas finally said, his voice low and his eyes still downcast.

"Sorry for what?" Estel asked in confusion.

Now Legolas looked up and his expression was a mixture of anger and self-reproach. "I should never have missed the way back to the Stronghold. It is unconscionable."

Estel stole a glance at Mithrandir who had suddenly decided that his bacon and eggs were the most interesting sight he had ever seen. Estel sighed. And I thought I had problems, he said to himself. "Legolas, what happened yesterday could have happened to anyone, even an elf. Just because you’re immortal doesn’t make you infallible. All you did was go in the wrong direction in a snowstorm. I, on the other hand, fell off a cliff during one. So you have nothing on me, mellon nîn."

Both elf and Wizard stared at the Dúnadan — Legolas in shock, while Mithrandir simply looked amused, though there was a wondering expression in his eyes as well.

"How—"

"Ask my horse. He can give you all the gory details." Estel’s tone was half joking and half deprecating.

At that Mithrandir actually laughed. "Well said, my boy, well said. You should listen to your friend young Legolas. We all make mistakes. Dwelling on them is merely a type of self-indulgence."

"Besides," added Estel with a teasing smile. "That was yesterday. This is today. Just think of all the new mistakes you can make before the day’s end."

Mithrandir snorted at that and began laughing. Legolas tried to maintain a sober demeanor but failed and soon all three were laughing.

"Much better," Mithrandir finally said. "You younglings take things much too seriously. So what are your plans for the day, heh?"

Estel shrugged and looked at Legolas who grimaced. "Adar has decided I need more experience in diplomacy and has commanded me to see to our guests who arrived yesterday from Dale and Lake-town. I fear I will be occupied for most of the day until the festivities tonight."

"Ah, diplomacy," Estel said somewhat facetiously. "Should we be worried?"

Legolas just stared at Estel for a long moment before realizing his friend was joking and smiled.

"In that case," Mithrandir said, ignoring the interplay between the two friends, "I would appreciate your company, Lord Aragorn, if you have no other plans."

"I would be honored, and please, there is no need to be so formal. Aragorn will do."

Mithrandir nodded. "Then Aragorn it is. I must speak with Elrond and Thranduil first. Why don’t we meet again in an hour’s time in the Great Hall?"

Estel nodded and shortly thereafter Mithrandir and Legolas took their leave of him. He wondered how to occupy himself for the next hour and decided to go outside for some fresh air and to check on Mithfaron. Returning to his suite, he grabbed his cloak, but elected to leave his sword behind, though he did not go completely unarmed. The guards at the Gate nodded in greeting when he told them where he was going.

"Be wary, my lord," one of them said. "There was a freeze last night and the ground is icy. Take care crossing the causeway. Stay in the center and you will be fine."

"Le hannon," Estel said and with a short bow went outside.

He found himself wrapping his cloak tightly around him for the air was brittle with cold and the sun was not warm. About him the ground was a blanket of white and the boughs of the trees hung heavy with ice. The sky was clear and a deep shade of blue. He made his way slowly across the causeway, keeping himself in the center. If any elves had crossed over there was no sign, nor did Estel expect to see any. His were the only tracks that were made.

Inside the stables Mithfaron whickered a greeting as Estel handed him a small apple he had taken from the breakfast sideboard. Tologyll and Asfaloth, in nearby stalls, gave their own greetings, recognizing the mortal as belonging to them.

"Yes, yes, I have not forgotten you either," Estel said with a grin as he pulled out two more apples to give to Elrond’s and Glorfindel’s steeds, who accepted the offerings with alacrity. He even had one for the packhorse, who had been feeling left out of all the attention, demanding that Estel scratch his ears as he munched on the apple. Estel chuckled at that.

"What are you doing here? And why are you bothering the elves’ horses?"

Estel turned at the sound of the voice speaking to him in Westron. It belonged to a Man, perhaps a decade or so older than he. He was dressed in warm and serviceable travel clothes and carried a sword. Estel suspected he might be a guard, for he carried himself like one.

"I asked you a question, youngling. You are not permitted to trouble the horses belonging to the elves. The horses of Dale and Lake-town have been lodged in another section of these stables."

Estel raised an eyebrow at the highhandedness of the Man. "Then why are you here?"

The Man’s face darkened in anger and he started to reach for his sword. Estel stepped back but was saved from having to do anything by the arrival of Laslaerion and Galadhor. The two elves took in the situation and immediately stepped between Estel and the Man.

"Lord Aragorn, is there a problem?" Laslaerion asked quietly.

Estel gave the elven guard a wry look. "This Man appears to think I should not be bothering the horses."

Both elves raised an eyebrow at that and Galadhor turned to the Man who had started at the seemingly sudden appearance of the two armed elves and had looked perplexed when the young upstart in front of him began speaking in the elvish tongue, which none of the Men from Dale or Lake-town spoke with any fluency, save Lord Bard and the Master. Speaking in careful Westron, the elf said, "My friend, this is Lord Aragorn of the Dúnedain. He is a guest of King Thranduil and this is his horse."

"But he isn’t an elf." The Man sounded honestly confused.

The two elves started grinning at the tone of the Man’s voice. Before anyone could speak though, two more elves approached; one being Legolas, the other was Glorfindel. Both were dressed for riding.

"Laslaerion, Galadhor, what is going on?" The elven prince looked surprised to see Estel and another Man there.

But it was Estel who explained the situation, speaking in Westron for the benefit of the Man, who, it turned out, when Legolas questioned him, was named Edred and was the captain of Lord Bard’s troops. Legolas frowned but Glorfindel only looked amused. Edred looked completely out of his depth.

"Really, Estel, your adar and I are going to have to put you on a leash if you don’t start behaving yourself," Glorfindel said with a wicked grin. The other elves, including Legolas, laughed lightly at that. "And what are you doing walking around unarmed? I thought I had taught you better than that."

"I am not unarmed, Glorfindel," Estel said quietly, refusing to be baited. "I came out here to say hello to Mithfaron and then return to meet with Mithrandir."

Glorfindel shook his head in mock disbelief. "Elflings."

Estel laughed. "You can get away with calling my brothers that, Glorfi, for all that they are nearly three thousand years old, but you can’t call me that. I don’t have the ears for it."

Galadhor and Laslaerion snickered at that, and Legolas was smiling broadly. Glorfindel shot them all a sharp look which was ruined by the fact that he was finding it difficult not to laugh himself.

"That’s Lord Glorfi to you, insolent child."

By now Edred was beginning to regret having ever spoken to this Lord Aragorn. He had never heard of these Dúnedain. He had mistaken the youngster, as he seemed, for one of the Master of Lake-town’s entourage, but now it appeared that he was a lord in his own right who spoke easily with elf-lords and princes in their own tongue. He had never met any mortal who spoke so familiarly with elves as this Man did. He was not sure he approved.

As if they suddenly remembered the other mortal’s presence, the four elves turned their attention to Edred, who began sweating under the combined stares of the Firstborn. Estel, however, took pity on the Man, who had only been doing his duty, for it turned out that some of the younger members of the parties from Dale and Lake-town were wont to sneak into the stables and try to see the elven-bred horses. Edred had been left on guard to prevent that. Estel moved towards the mortal guard and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You must forgive us, Captain," he said, nodding towards the elves, who looked on with amused expressions. "Lord Glorfindel helped raise me and Prince Legolas is a friend. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain. My people live in the West across the Misty Mountains."

Edred bowed his head in greeting. "Forgive me, lord. I was not aware that any other Men were here. I thought you were from Lake-town."

"An honest enough mistake I suppose," Estel said.

Just then, Elrond appeared accompanied by a dark-haired Man. Like Legolas and Glorfindel, they were dressed for riding. Elrond raised an eyebrow at the tableau before him. "Estel, what have you done now?"

Estel blushed. "Nothing, Adar. I was just bringing an apple for Mithfaron."

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel who merely shrugged. Deciding it wasn’t worth making a scene over, he switched to Westron. "King Bard, may I present my foster son, Aragorn son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain."

Estel gave the King of Dale a bow, but the Man waved his hand in dismissal. "It is I who should be bowing to you, my lord. I never thought to ever meet one of the Dúnedain, much less Isildur’s Heir. Penninor ’elir." Bard gave Estel a bow, much to Edred’s surprise.

"Penninor ’elir, aran Bard. I am glad to finally meet you as well."

"Will you be joining us, then, my lord?" Bard asked. "We are going riding."

"Thank you, no," Estel said. "I promised Mithrandir that I would spend the day with him."

"Mithrandir?" Bard frowned. "Oh, you mean Gandalf. Well, perhaps another time."

With that, Estel bade them farewell and giving them all a bow, left. As he was making his way out of the stables, though, he heard Bard questioning Edred and hoped the Man did not get into too much trouble on his account. He himself had found the situation amusing rather than insulting and looked forward to sharing the story with Halbarad and Belegond when next he saw them.

Returning to the Stronghold, he made his way to the Great Hall. It was bustling with elves decorating the hall for the upcoming festival. There was much singing and joking among the ellyn and ellith. Estel weaved his way among them, smiling and giving greetings as he went until he came to where Mithrandir was standing before a tapestry depicting elves dancing in a woodland glade under moonlight. Estel stood beside the Wizard to examine the tapestry himself.

"I remember when this was made," Mithrandir said, not taking his eyes off the tapestry. "Legolas’ naneth wove it. She is an excellent weaver and her work is highly prized among the elves." He turned to face Estel with a small smile. "In fact, I believe at least one of her tapestries hangs in Imladris and even Galadriel and Celeborn have one hanging in their main reception hall."

"Do you know which one hangs in Imladris? I confess, I’ve not paid much attention." Estel smiled wryly. "As a child, I was more interested in playing with my bow and arrows and climbing trees than looking at pieces of cloth, however interesting the scene."

Mithrandir chuckled and nodded knowingly. "When you return to Imladris, take a walk down the hall between Elrond’s study and the Hall of Fire. There is a tapestry on one wall depicting the rising of Ithil over Doriath."

Estel’s eyes brightened. "Oh yes. I know that one. Adar used to tell me stories about Ithil when I was very young. In fact, I was very worried once that Menelvagor might shoot Tilion by mistake instead of the Stag."

The two chuckled over that and Mithrandir turned to leave the Great Hall, and Estel followed. They made their way behind the dais on which stood Thranduil’s throne to where a passageway led into the interior of the Stronghold. Estel was tempted to ask outright why Mithrandir wished for him to accompany him for the day, but decided the Wizard would tell him in his own time. He suspected that this was the reason for their trip in the first place, for Estel to meet with the Ithron Vithren.

Mithrandir led Estel to a part of the Stronghold he had not yet visited. The passageways were somewhat narrower and less ornately decorated, yet beautiful in their simplicity of design nonetheless. Estel suspected that most of what he saw was elvish rather than dwarvish work. At one point they began to climb. The slope of the passageway was not steep but the way seemed long and Estel wondered if it led to the summit. Perhaps, he thought, there was a look-out there. He imagined such a view would be spectacular.

At last they came to the end, but there was no sentry’s look-out. Instead they came to a room that opened up somewhat, with a high ceiling and richly carved pillars. There were no tapestries on the walls, but each was painted with various woodland scenes in bright colors that were somehow soothing to look at. In the center of the high ceiling there was a large skylight made of a single cut crystal. Sunlight streamed through the faceted skylight so that the entire room shimmered in many hues. It was almost like being under a waterfall, but this one made of light. Below the skylight was a small fountain whose waters changed colors with the light. Estel gasped and stood stock still at the sight.

Mithrandir smiled knowingly, allowing the young Man time to enjoy the sight for a moment before speaking. "This has always been my favorite room in the Stronghold. The elves call it Sam Eiliant."

"It’s beautiful." Estel whispered in awe and walked towards the fountain to stand directly under the light streaming down, his hands stretched out on either side of him, palms up as if to catch the light. His face was upturned, his eyes closed and a smile of delight lit his face. Then, opening his eyes he turned slowly around, drinking in the multicolored play of light as if it were indeed life-giving water. The Wizard stood there silently watching the young Dúnadan, his expression veiled by his broad-brimmed hat. After a couple of minutes, Estel seemed to come back to himself and he stopped turning to look at Mithrandir.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Mithrandir’s lips quirked in a smile. "Why? I wanted to see how you reacted to the light."

Estel looked at the Wizard in confusion. "I don’t understand."

"Nor do I expect you to," Mithrandir said with a smile and gesturing towards a bench that stood just outside the pool of light between two pillars, indicated that he wished to sit down. Estel followed him.

"This room is rarely shown to mortals. Not even King Bard or the Master of Lake-town have ever been here."

Estel looked skeptical at that, but said nothing.

"You doubt me, Aragorn? But I assure you, few mortals have ever sat in this chamber. In fact, you may well be the first in over a millennium."

"I still don’t understand, Mithrandir," Estel said, looking around the chamber. It was a beautiful place, peaceful and soul-refreshing, true, but it was just a room with only a few benches between the pillars. Estel suspected the chamber was a place of meditation for the elves. He wondered what it might look like with moonlight streaming through the skylight and gave a slight shiver, not of fear, but of excitement, though he could not understand the emotion running through him at the thought.

He felt a hand on his arm and looked back at Mithrandir to find himself falling into the depths of the Wizard’s eyes, which held him there almost against his will. Dark and bright at the same time, the Wizard's eyes were full of memories that staggered the young mortal. Estel was mesmerized by what he saw there and thought he might never stop falling. He suddenly found it hard to breathe.

Mithrandir seemed to move slightly and Estel found himself released from whatever spell had held him, gasping as if he had run for leagues. He felt shaken and disoriented. The Wizard began rubbing Estel’s back and spoke softly.

"Take a deep breath, child. You’ll feel better soon. Lasto na lam nîn."

Estel took a couple of deep breaths and concentrated on Mithrandir’s voice, which was quiet and reassuring. The soothing motion of the Wizard’s hand rubbing his back also helped to ground him. After a few moments he felt more himself and Mithrandir stopped his ministrations, sitting back to examine Estel in the shimmering light.

He had seen what Elrond and Glorfindel and all the other elves, even Thranduil, had seen when they looked at Aragorn. The light of stars was in this one’s eyes, though Mithrandir suspected that Aragorn did not see them himself whenever he looked in a mirror. But they were there for those who had eyes to see. None of Aragorn’s Dúnedain ancestors whom Mithrandir had known, not even his own father Arathorn, had had the light of stars shining so brightly in their eyes. This one was definitely different.

"Wh-what happened, Mithrandir?" Estel finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mithrandir looked at him in sympathy. "I apologize for that, Aragorn. I needed to learn something. Please forgive me, mellon neth nîn."

Estel swallowed. "And what did you learn?"

Mithrandir smiled warmly. "I learned many things, but the most important thing I learned was that your adar named you rightly." His expression darkened somewhat. "You have a long and dangerous road ahead of you, Aragorn. Many years as Men count them will pass before you are ready to assume the kingship, if ever. Your life will be lonely and you will have few whom you can trust implicitly. I hope, in time, I will be one of those few."

Estel nodded but said nothing, lost in thought.

"I want you to know that you can tell me anything," Mithrandir said after a few minutes of silence. "Fear not to speak your heart to me. I will hold all you say in strictest confidence. I suspect," — and here he gave the mortal a piercing glance — "that there are few, if any, even among your own people to whom you feel free to divulge your deepest feelings. I think even Elrond does not know your thoughts on certain things, though he may guess."

Estel said nothing to that but sat staring into the shimmering light before him. Finally, he began to speak, softly at first and hesitatingly, but then with more confidence.

"About five years ago adar told me of my true heritage. I found myself upset, confused and not a little frightened. All of a sudden I did not know who I was anymore. I had to get away from the house and ended up wandering in a nearby wood. For some reason I started singing part of the Lay of Lúthien and then I saw her... Lúthien, herself, or so I deemed. I thought I had entered into a dream. I ran after her crying ‘Tinuviel!, Tinuviel!’ just as Beren had. She stopped and turned and we spoke. She was no dream, but Elrond’s daughter, Arwen, lately come from Lothlórien. I...I fell in love with her right then and there...."

And Estel told Mithrandir about his first meeting with Arwen and the years that followed as he learned to lead the Dúnedain as their Chieftain returned to them. As the day lengthened he spoke of his hopes and fears and of things he hardly allowed himself to think on except perhaps in the deepest watches of the night. Mithrandir listened sympathetically, rarely speaking himself, but offering Estel encouragement and permission to speak to the Wizard about his deepest thoughts without censor or blame. The noontide came and went but neither noticed as the light shifted towards the afternoon and the shimmering rainbow begin to dim.

****

Some hours later Estel entered the Great Hall where the Yule festival was being held. It was now decorated with boughs of holly and balsam, which spread their fresh piney scent throughout the Stronghold. Lanterns shaded with paper in many different colors illuminated the hall, and bright ribbons hung everywhere. Estel even spied one or two bunches of mistletoe discretely placed where lovers could meet. Tables were laden with food and drink. All were dressed in festive finery — fur-trimmed brocades and velvets predominating, though here and there were elves dressed in silk. He himself wore a simple tunic of dark grey velvet trimmed with a brocade of green and gold dotted with pearls over a shirt of forest green watered silk, with tight sleeves. His breeches matched his tunic and the soft house boots covering his feet were trimmed with squirrel fur. The outfit had been a gift from Elrond for this occasion. His dark locks were braided elf-style but otherwise were unadorned. He wore no jewelry save for the ring of Barahir.

When Estel had at last begun to wind down after speaking for many hours, Mithrandir had suggested they stop and get some rest before the evening’s festivities. Estel did not realize until that moment how exhausted he felt, yet at the same time, he had felt lighter of heart, almost carefree. His speaking to Mithrandir had been very cathartic and he wondered at that. He doubted he could have revealed himself so fully even to Legolas or his kinsman Halbarad, with whom he shared much, for they were close to the same age. Mithrandir had merely smiled and thanked him for the trust he had shown in speaking to him. Then he led Estel back to his own suite of rooms and the young Man fell into a deep and refreshing sleep almost as soon as he lay down, waking only when Elrond called to him. He was surprised to find he had only slept for an hour or so, for he felt as if he had slept an entire night through. Elrond had given him a look of understanding.

"I trust your time with Mithrandir was well spent, iôn nîn," was all he said and Estel merely nodded, not wishing to say more. What had passed between himself and Mithrandir would remain between them and Estel suspected that that was what Elrond had hoped for him and felt grateful for the elf-lord.

Now, freshly bathed and dressed, Estel stood near the entrance of the hall looking for a familiar face. He finally saw Legolas approaching. The elf prince was dressed in soft green velvet trimmed with fur dyed a darker green. He wore a circlet of silver filigree with a single star sapphire in the center. His hair had been carefully braided and his eyes glowed with pleasure.

"I am glad to see you, mellon nîn," he said in greeting.

"And I am glad to see you," answered Estel. "How was your ride?"

"Cold." Legolas laughed lightly and Estel raised an eyebrow at that and smiled.

"And how is it that you were cold, mellon nîn? I did not think elves ever got cold."

"You never crossed the Grinding Ice, youngling." Legolas and Estel turned to see Glorfindel standing there with a wide grin on his face. The elf-lord was dressed in dark blue brocade trimmed with white fur over a shirt that was a shade or two lighter than his tunic embroidered with yellow flowers at the neck and wrists. "Now if you want to talk about cold..."

"Not tonight, Glorfindel. I actually want to enjoy myself tonight."

Glorfindel gave Estel a mock glare. "Well, I think I will go and find someone who actually appreciates one of my stories."

Legolas smiled. "Oh, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your stories, Lord Glorfindel—"

"It’s just that we’ve heard them all too many times to count," Estel finished for him and the two friends laughed.

"Hmph. Elflings. No respect for their elders."

"My sentiment exactly."

All three turned to see Thranduil approaching with Mithrandir, Elrond and Lord Bard. A portly older Man with them must be the Master of Lake-town, Estel thought. He, Legolas and Glorfindel bowed to Thranduil in greeting. Thranduil made the introductions. The older Man did indeed turn out to be the Master of Lake-town, whose name was Gorlas and whose family had long been merchants. He had only recently become Master and was feeling somewhat out of his depth among such company. He spoke little, and then in quiet, diffident tones. His Sindarin was adequate, a necessary requisite for the position of Master, but it was not as fluent as Bard’s.

Once the introductions were made, Thranduil turned to Glorfindel. "So, my son was being disrespectful, was he?" he asked in a mock serious tone.

"Oh yes," Glorfindel said with a straight face. "I was about to tell him and Estel about crossing the Grinding Ice, but they claim to have heard that story already."

"Indeed?" The King of the Woodland Realm raised an eyebrow at his son, who refused to look at his father. Estel noticed though that Elrond was attempting to hide a smile and even Mithrandir was smirking. "Then I forgive him for his rudeness," Thranduil finally said with a laugh. "It’s a boring story."

"Boring?" Glorfindel repeated in affronted surprise. "None of my stories are boring, Thranduil. I’ve spent too many centuries perfecting them."

"That’s why they’re boring," Thranduil retorted.

Elrond and Mithrandir started laughing, and even Legolas was grinning. Estel found himself smiling as well. The other two Men however were not sure how to react to the interplay between the two elf-lords and so maintained more sober demeanors.

"There is one story no one has ever told that I would be interested in hearing though," Legolas said slyly.

"And what story would that be?" Elrond asked, smiling.

"Why Glorfindel and Adar are always arguing with one another."

"We are not always arguing, iôn nîn," Thranduil protested.

"Hmph," Glorfindel replied. "Speak for yourself, Thranduil."

Legolas rolled his eyes and turned to Estel. "See what I mean?"

Estel grinned and leaned towards his friend in a conspiratorial manner, though he spoke loud enough for all to hear. "I think Glorfindel picks fights on purpose because he misses fighting with balrogs."

"My adar isn’t a balrog!" Legolas said in mock anger.

"Well, maybe not," Estel agreed, appearing to think about it. "But perhaps Glorfindel doesn’t know that."

At that Thranduil started laughing and the others joined in, though Glorfindel reached behind Legolas to give Estel a swat on the back of his head for good measure.

"Insolent child!" he said laughingly.

"Come, Aragorn," Legolas said once the laughter had died down. "I would like you to meet some of my friends."

Thranduil nodded. "Yes, go, my children," making a shooing gesture. "We do not stand on ceremony tonight. Enjoy yourselves."

Estel gave the group a bow and then followed Legolas, who headed towards two ellyn and an elleth standing before a table. Estel saw that it was one of the tables where drinks were being served. As they neared, one of the ellon looked up and smiled.

"Greetings, Legolas. Come join us."

"Greetings, Maedrust. This is my friend, Aragorn son of Arathorn of the Dúnedain."

The other elves gave Estel their greetings as Legolas introduced them. Besides Maedrust, there was Halgaladh and Eirien. They appeared to be young in the reckoning of the elves and were obviously good friends of their prince.

"Will you join us in some Dorwinion?" Halgaladh asked, indicating the table covered with different kinds of drinks.

Estel saw that besides the famed Dorwinion there were also flagons of ale (probably for the Men) and fruit juices and cider (for the elflings, of which there were few), as well as some other kinds of wine for those who did not wish to indulge in the stronger Dorwinion. Estel was tempted to try the Dorwinion about which he had heard many stories from his brothers and Glorfindel, but his healer’s training took over and he regretfully declined.

"I suffered a head injury only a few days ago," he explained with a sigh. "My healers would have a fit if they knew I was drinking Dorwinion. I had better stick to watered wine or fruit juice for now."

The two ellyn nodded in understanding, though Eirien pouted somewhat. "Do you always do what your healers tell you to do? I think it’s unfair of them to not allow you to have fun tonight."

Estel threw a questioning glance at Legolas who only shrugged. Turning back to the elleth, he answered with a smile. "I am a healer myself, my lady, and I would not dream of questioning their assessment, especially when one of those healers is my adar."

Eirien raised a delicate eyebrow at that. "I’m sure you and your adar are adequate to the task as healers among the Secondborn, though I doubt you can measure up to our own healers in knowledge or ability," the elleth commented haughtily.

All three ellyn looked at her with differing degrees of surprise and embarrassment. Estel just looked stunned. It was Legolas who answered her.

"Lord Aragorn was raised in Imladris as the son of Lord Elrond, Eirien, and was trained as a healer by him. You are presuming too much on too little information."

Eirien had the grace to blush, though she did not apologize. Legolas gave Estel a grimace but Estel just smiled back. He had encountered similar prejudices among some of the Dúnedain when he first came to them, though for different reasons, and he had learned to dismiss them. He could not control how others thought, and so he did not try. He had long decided that he could only be true to himself and others would have to deal with him as best they may.

The two ellyn gave Eirien looks of dismay but otherwise made no comments on her words. Instead they purposely steered the conversation towards discussing an upcoming hunt.

"Perhaps you would care to join us, Lord Aragorn," Halgaladh said as he poured some fruit juice into a goblet and handed it to Estel. "Legolas usually accompanies us."

"I would like that very much, if I am not committed elsewhere."

"And I," added Legolas, taking a sip of the Dorwinion Maedrust had pressed into his hand. Aragorn had insisted that Legolas not forego the heady wine for his sake. "Adar may have other plans for me as well, but if we are free we will join in the hunt."

For the next few moments the four men discussed the various hunts they had been on and the animals they had brought down. Eirien looked decidedly bored by it all, but refused to leave. Estel had the impression from the way she stayed close to Halgaladh that the two of them might have an understanding, though, as he did not see either wearing a betrothal ring, he was not entirely sure.

They had moved away from the tables during their discussion and were standing off to the side when they were interrupted by someone speaking in Westron.

"It’s impolite to speak a language others do not understand." The voice was rough with too much wine taken.

Estel and the elves turned to see four Men approaching them. They appeared to be near his own age though at least one was definitely younger, perhaps only twenty. As early in the evening as it was, he appeared to be already drunk. The other three, though, were not far behind. It was the youngest who had spoken. His companions snickered in a way that Estel knew spelled trouble. He was unsure if the elves would catch on in time.

"That may be true, friend," Estel said quietly, "but as you were not a part of this particular conversation, we were not obliged to speak otherwise."

The youngster looked belligerent and his three friends seemed ready to egg him on. Estel wondered if these Men were from Lake-town or Dale. They did not seem to be of the same caliber as the guard Edred, who, for all his faults, had been courteous once the situation had been explained to him and had been acting responsibly in his duty as a guard. These four just seemed too eager for a fight.

"Do you know who I am?" the young Man asked imperiously.

Estel felt the elves stir at this, but he ignored them. Affecting a surprised look, he asked, "Why? Don’t you?"

The question flustered the four Men somewhat but the youngster recovered more quickly than the others. "Of course I know who I am, you moron!" he shouted, and Estel saw one of the other Men go to his belt knife before he remembered where he was and stopped.

"Well, in that case, why are you asking me?"

At that the elves started laughing, which was a mistake, for that simply infuriated the Men even more, especially the youngster, who, Estel began to think might be the Master’s own son. Something about his eyes reminded the Chieftain of the Dúnedain of Gorlas.

The young Man gave a wordless yell and started swinging, but Estel had known it was coming and ducked. Before even the elves could react, he had come up under the young Man’s arms and held him in a hold that left little doubt as to who was in control. The young Man struggled futilely, and cursed rather fluently; his friends had the presence of mind not to try to interfere, especially when Legolas and the other ellyn stepped between them.

"Calmly, friend," Estel said quietly, keeping his hold on the lad. "Remember where you are. There is a lady present and your words do little to endear us mortals to her."

The ruckus had drawn the attention of Thranduil and those around him. Estel saw them coming and with a quick pressure to the carotid, sent the youngster into oblivion.

"What’s the meaning of this?" Thranduil demanded, his visage dark with suppressed fury. Estel saw that Gorlas looked quite ill and felt sorry for the Man.

"I’m afraid this one has had more Dorwinion than was good for him, my lord. He appeared unsteady on his feet and was in danger of tripping when I caught him. I’m afraid he’s passed out."

Estel forced himself to look at the elven king without flinching. Elves do not lie and he had been taught never to do so, but he had also learned the value of prevaricating when necessary during his years among the Dúnedain.

Thranduil looked at him somewhat suspiciously before turning to his son. "Is this true, Legolas?"

Estel refused to look at his friend and hoped the elven prince would back up his story. It was Yule after all, and Estel saw no point in making things worse for anyone.

"Yes, Adar. Young Garulf should not have been drinking Dorwinion at his age, I think. Lord Aragorn was able to prevent him from suffering any serious injury."

Estel breathed an inner sigh of relief. It was not a lie, though not necessarily the entire truth. Eirien looked as if she might say something contradictory, but a glare from Halgaladh quelled her and she remained silent. The interplay was not lost to Thranduil or any of the other elves. Estel kept his eyes on the king and refused to look at either Elrond or Glorfindel for fear of giving himself away.

Gorlas spoke then to one of the Men who had been accompanying Garulf. "Did I not instruct you to keep my son away from the Dorwinion, Thorstane?"

"Yes, Master, but he wanted to try some and I thought—"

"You obviously did not think at all, any of you." Gorlas turned to Thranduil with an apologetic bow. "I apologize for my son, King Thranduil. His actions were inexcusable. I trust you will put them down to youthful folly."

Thranduil nodded though he did not look satisfied with the explanations he’d been given. "I am willing to overlook your son’s indiscretions for the moment, Master Gorlas. I suggest in the future you keep him under tighter control." With that he gave orders for the hapless youth to be taken to the infirmary where he could sleep off his stupor. Gorlas decided to accompany his son, along with the youngster’s now sheepish looking companions.

Once Gorlas had left Thranduil turned again to Estel with a thin smile. "I do not appreciate being lied to, even by Isildur’s Heir. Even I could see that young fool was causing trouble."

Estel shrugged. "It is Yule, my lord king. I did not wish to have the festivities disrupted by that... that seron-en-orch." He spoke the insult very softly, as if unwilling for any to hear and felt himself blush at his own temerity.

Several elven eyebrows went up at that and Bard actually laughed. Elrond looked especially shocked. "Estel! I never thought to hear such words from your mouth. And we all know that boy did not faint. I suspect you had something to do with it."

But Thranduil waved his hand in dismissal, the smile on his face actually genuine. "Now, now Elrond. The lad’s entitled. Garulf is known for his belligerence. His adar indulges him too much, I fear. Whatever Aragorn did to him was well deserved and more than he deserved."

"I am sorry Adar, my Lord Thranduil." Estel gave them both a short bow.

"Well, well. It’s water under the bridge now," Thranduil said. "Why don’t you elflings run along and have fun? The night is still young."

It was obviously a dismissal and with hasty bows the younger elves and Estel made their retreat. The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Estel joined the elves in dancing at one point and Eirien proved to be an excellent partner. She seemed to be less haughty after the encounter with young Garulf and Estel found that he liked her more than he thought he would. Later, when the singing began, Estel joined in, even agreeing to sing a solo piece, a lay about the Fall of Númenor. While his voice was not as beautiful as an elf’s it was clear and pleasant and the elves listened in appreciation.

It was well past midnight, though, when Estel began to flag. Legolas noticed and insisted he retire. Estel was ready to protest but was stopped by a jaw-breaking yawn. Glorfindel, who had been standing nearby came over and speaking as captain to a recruit ordered Estel to bed. Legolas offered to escort him and in a short time they reached Estel’s rooms where Legolas bade him good night. Five minutes later Estel was fast asleep.

****

Penninor: Yule, last day of the year, literally "full-year-day" [pant + în + aur].

Penninor ’elir: Happy Yule.

Aran: King.

Ellon/ellyn: Male elf/elves.

Elleth/ellith: Female elf/elves.

Ithron vithren: Grey Wizard.

Sam Eiliant: Rainbow Chamber.

Lasto na lam nîn: 'Listen to my voice'.

Mellon neth nîn: My young friend.

Seron-en-orch: Orc-lover; a particularly vicious insult in Sindarin.

Note: In 'Appendix A', Aragorn is said to have been singing ‘the Lay of Lúthien’ when he first meets Arwen, not ‘the Lay of Leithian’, as some readers have suggested was meant, basing their assumption on the title given in The Lays of Beleriand. According to Christopher Tolkien, however, the published reading is correct and his father often referred to the poem as ‘Lúthien’. See Reader’s Companion, p. 698.