*thoughts in*

Chapter 4: Hearts and Quivers

Aní was running through the interior halls of the palace, looking for his mother.

He was on an errand from Faelon, Mirkwood’s captain of the guard, a just elf, as his name represented, when it came to matters of duty, but Faelon was a bundle of nerves when it came to matters of the heart. Faelon was in love with Turwen, one of Mirkwood’s master trainers, but he dared not reveal it to her. Something in Faelon made him doubt that Turwen would return his feelings. Aní could not fathom why Faelon would doubt himself when it came to matters of the opposite sex.

*Faelon is a great warrior, the respected captain of the guard,* Aní thought to himself. *But yet he is rendered a shy, bobbling elf around Turwen. Surely, any maiden would be overjoyed to learn that the great Faelon is their suitor.

Faelon, on the advice of Rainiel had volunteered to assist Turwen with the training of novice warriors on that day, and he had heeded her advice, but now he found himself unable to gather his wits about him. Many of the novice warriors were puzzled that the decorated warrior and otherwise confident captain was stumbling for words and stuttering through those that did escape his mouth. Some of these novices had to suppress chuckles for they were privy to the reasons behind Faelon’s clumsiness, and all too aware of why he would be so unsure of himself around a maiden he fancied.

***

Earlier that day, Aní happened to be passing by the training field, when Faelon spied him. Faelon, feeling quite flustered, called to Aní and enlisted him to go retrieve his mother. Faelon hoped desperately that Rainiel would have some words to soothe him and suggestions as to how to get his act together! Rainiel was his confidant, and closest friend, and knew the entirety of his situation after all.

The tight grip on Aní’s shoulder was indication of the urgency of Faelon’s request, as was the piercing glare that shot from Faelon’s narrowed eyes. Aní nodded his head, but before he could speak, he had been shoved along on his errand quite forcefully by Faelon.

***

Aní slowed down to a walk as he neared Thranduil’s study. He asked a guard who was walking from the direction of the study, “Herenion, have you seen my mother?”

“Yes, Lord Aníralendon, princess Rainiel is in the King’s study along with the princes Laurenor and Legolas,“ Herenion replied, using Aní’s formal name.

Aní noticed the grin that spread across the guard’s face, “So I see that they are up to some sort of merriment in there, aren’t they,” Aní asked, shaking his head in mock disapproval.

Herenion laughed, “Indeed they are. You know how they can get!”

Aní clasped Herenion’s shoulder, and nodded in agreement. “Their merriment brings us all great joy, does it not,” Aní added.

“Indeed it does Lord Aníralendon. It serves as a reminder that although the Shadow encroaches upon us, we can continue to be joyous. I am well reminded that when I see my wife and child tonight, I will greet them with all my love.”

“Ai, Herenion, it is time for you to be getting home, is it not,” Aní exclaimed. Herenion nodded his head. Aní continued, “Then I will hold you no longer. Please send my greetings to your family.”

Herenion departed down the hall, and called out to Aní, “Hir nîn , I heard about the unintended flight of one of your arrows! Blasted arrows, sometimes they fly on their own whim!” The last of these words trailed off as Herenion disappeared completely within the palace halls.

Aní turned to where the words emanated, and so shocked was he that as he whirled around in deep embarrassment, he collided with a wall. Aní glanced around to make sure know one had seen his encounter with the wall, and headed sheepishly towards Thranduil’s study.

Aní reached his grandfather’s study and found his mother, uncles and grandfather comfortably lounging on the plush floor rug. The young warrior’s mother sat close to her father, sharing a silk floor pillow for support. Legolas was lying beside Rainiel, resting his head in her lap. Laurenor sat cross-legged across from Thranduil and Rainiel, slouching over. His hand was unconsciously grasping one of Legolas’ braids, twisting it around his fingers, as he listened to Legolas recount the many tales encountered while out on patrol. The amusement visible on their faces made Aní wince inwardly-- Legolas had told them about his mishap.

“Aní, please come in, “ Legolas coolly spoke up, without looking up at him. “As you were part of this patrol, you might be able to add some, er, crucial pieces of information to a certain incident that occurred.”

Aní groaned, he knew quite well of what Legolas was referring to. Aní was a regular member of Legolas’ patrols in Mirkwood, and the last patrol had proven difficult. An arrow had been loosed by Aní during a skirmish with orcs, but it somehow had found its way into another elven warrior’s behind.

Aní opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas did not allow him the opportunity to defend himself. Legolas spoke dryly “but you did not come here to share this information, that, I am certain of.” Legolas spoke this last phrase as if to himself, but refocused on Aní and continued, “Pray, what is it that you need?”

The formal tone his uncle used was too much for Aní, “Legolas, please do not torture me so! It was but an innocent mistake!”

Legolas’ straight face broke into a wide grin, “Yes it was nephew, and a most embarrassing one at that!” Giggles emanated from the group, making Aní shuffle his feet.

Thranduil added kindly, “It is my understanding that the injured elf is recuperating quickly, and holds no grudge against you, Aní.”

Aní’s face was turning different shades of crimson, and he let out an almost inaudible whine, “I-- I-- really don’t know how it happened

Sensing her son’s state of embarrassment, Rainiel stood up and walked over to Aní, embracing him in a protective manner. “Aní, just remind your Uncle who it was that almost rendered a certain captain of the guard-- unable to bear children,” she sarcastically replied. Rainiel looked sweetly at her youngest brother, and waited for his mouth to come up off the floor.

Aní was confused, and glanced at his mother who was gazing coyly in the direction of Legolas. Legolas’ face began to go pale, but the glance he shot back at Aní’s mother would have rendered any other elf paralyzed with fear. Rainiel simply smirked and held Legolas’ gaze.

Laurenor snapped up sharply, and laughingly added, “Yes thanks to your stray arrow Legolas, our dear Faelon, has only one *quiver* to aid in his storage of *arrows*!”

Legolas’ face began turning a deep red, and his jaw moved as if he were to speak but was unable to find words to reply to his siblings.

Aní’s face lit up with understanding. “You mean, Faelon has only one-- Legolas shot Faelon, in the, in the---“

“YES, I shot an arrow into one of Faelon’s-- quivers,” Legolas hesitated. “But it was an accident!” he howled.

“As was my shot Legolas, “ Aní retorted.

“Yes, Aní, your shot was an accident, but, but mine was misdirected by Laurenor,” Legolas muttered through a clenched jaw.

“I never bumped your bow as you shot, “ Laurenor replied indolently. “It was the wind, I say.”

“The wind,” Legolas cried out indignantly. “Your behind crashing into my bow as I shot the arrow was the DIRECT cause of it going astray, and into—into Faelon’s---“ Legolas’ voice trailed off. The mere mention of the accident made Legolas shutter. What self respecting elf would like to have been shot in the groin area? And what a shot it had been for it struck Faelon directly in one of his aforementioned parts. The wound was bad enough that the *part* had to be removed. Luckily, Faelon’s other *quiver* remained intact, and his ability to father elves, possible.

Thranduil interjected, “I must come to Legolas’ defense,” and turning to look at Laurenor added, “Laurenor you did bump into Legolas. Faelon himself said just so. Poor Faelon,” Thranduil sighed, “you should have seen the look of horror that shadowed his face when he recounted the story. Only I do not have the heart to retell the vivid details of, mm, the impact.”

Aní, Laurenor, Legolas and Thranduil shivered and looked at each other with knowing eyes, their faces growing pail. Laurenor strategically placed a pillow over his lower body, and held it tightly. The mention of the event was enough to make them wince with the imagined pain.

Legolas interrupted their wide-eyed imaginings and continued hesitantly, “As I said, it wasn’t my fault, but Aní, seriously, yours was a result of a seconds loss in your concentration.” Legolas looked at Aní with sympathetic eyes, “I know that that was the largest and fiercest horde of orcs you have encountered yet, but I would be remiss if I didn’t demand that it not happen again.”

Thranduil and Laurenor nodded with agreement. Rainiel shrugged her shoulders, and patted her son on the back, “And I know this will be the only time this happens, my son, but you will never live it down.” She looked over to Legolas and winked, “but some of our accidents have been more costly than others.” Rainiel had to suddenly duck as Legolas hurled a moss colored pillow at her.

Legolas’ deep blue eyes sparkled with merriment, “And one way to make sure it does not is to embarrass you so deeply that it will never cross your mind to let your concentration falter, if even for a second! Your mother has taught me this lesson well.”

Aní’s face relaxed into a smile. It was true, he had for the briefest of time, been somewhat caught off guard by the ferocity of orcs, and had let loose an arrow that went astray. He knew that this would not happen again, as he would never be allowed to live down the incident. But the painfully comical nature of Faelon’s injury was too much of a good story, one which Legolas would never live down as well! It dawned on Aní that maybe this was why Faelon was so unsure in his pursuit of Turwen.

Aní exclaimed aloud, “Poor Faelon, he is afraid Turwen will reject him because of his missing, uh, lack of-- Oh poor Faelon!”

Rainiel laughed heartily, “Oh my poor Faelon! Yes his confidence as it concerns Turwen has been somewhat lessened as a result of his accident.”

Aní glanced at his mother, suddenly remembering his errand, “Mother, Faelon needs your assistance! He is helping Turwen out with the novice warriors and is a wreck. You should see the poor elf, he cannot string a coherent sentence together, and he is so fidgety his hands betray him!”

Rainiel, raised her hand to her mouth in surprise. “Oh no, Faelon- I fear that my advice may end up making him more reclusive towards Turwen if he embarrasses himself beyond repair!,” she gasped. Rainiel looked at her family and excused herself. She had a friend to help out.

*How can I make him understand that Turwen will not care if he is missing that,* Rainiel thought to herself. * Why are elves so damned concerned with THOSE aspects of themselves. And we elves say we are not consumed by silly matters as mortals are! Male elves can be as bad as men- silly, silly males. There is so much more to passion and love!*