Part Three

A Break in the Weather

  Or

Agreeing to Anything  

Rohan

White Mountains near Helm’s Deep

Year 11, 4th Age

Winter   

Glorfindel could not help but grin as he listened to Aragorn’s story. While the man spoke, the snow fall lessened, allowing him to see the white blanket the storm had draped over the wood and mountain slopes to the south. He had already heard Aragorn's tale from Hisaeleth the one time he had met the woman, but hearing it from Aragorn’s perspective was almost as hilarious.

Almost.

A glance at Legolas showed the prince struggling to hold back laughter, his grey eyes bright with mirth. Legolas's lips were clamped shut, his arms wrapped around himself, giving the impression of holding off the chill that neither the young elf nor Glorfindel felt to the same intensity as the man huddled in his cloak.

“And so, that is how Iorthon found me, naked of all but a blanket and alone with his mother. He accused me of impropriety and began to drag me outside to… Well, I would rather not repeat what he said he would do to me.”

Glorfindel glanced away as Legolas snorted and said, “I can imagine what I would say if I found a naked man keeping company with my mother!”

Glorfindel bit the inside of his cheek to keep back his own laughter and avoided looking directly at the other two. He could feel the ire radiating off Aragorn. Or maybe it was embarrassment. Either way, at least the man would be warmer.

“I had no choice! One simply did not ignore Hisaeleth’s commands! You never met her, Legolas. She could be very…persuasive.”

“So what happened? How is it you remain...”

Glorfindel cast a sidelong glance at Legolas, pinching himself in addition to biting his cheek so he would not laugh. Legolas had that impish grin on his face and was leaning towards the Man and gesturing with a sweep of his hand towards Aragorn's groin.

“…able to produce children? Or is there something you and Arwen did not mention?  Hm?” 

A large handful of snow landed neatly in Legolas’s face.

Glorfindel could not stop it this time. He snickered, chuckled and then held his sides as laughter from deep inside spilled out and echoed in the stillness of the wood. He even managed to duck the snow lobbed in his direction.

“I-I am not l-laughing at y-you, Estel!” A snort escaped him. “I-I am l-laughing at that!” Glorfindel pointed to where Legolas was glaring and wiping the snow off his face.

“It is not funny,” Legolas quipped, standing and shaking his cloak out.

Aragorn, Glorfindel noticed, now also shook with ill-concealed mirth. 

Glorfindel just kept grinning. “It is hysterical. Now sit down so Aragorn can finish.” He cast a wicked smile at the prince. “You should be thinking of which story you will tell.”

Legolas plopped back down on the old, fallen tree, and swept a hand outwards in a motion for the man, seated across from him on another limb, to continue.

“It is very simple what happened next,” Aragorn explained. “Hisaeleth took Iorthon to task, giving her son a verbal lashing like I had never heard before, and growing up in Imladris, that is saying something! Iorthon never considered that his allegations also implicated his mother of impropriety!” The man laughed. “I thought Elrond and my mother were the best at such lectures, but I can assure you, Hisaeleth would even put your father to shame, Legolas.”

Watching Legolas’s eyebrow raise in surprise, Glorfindel nodded. “Aye, ‘tis true. I had the pleasure of meeting the woman once, and a more memorable and formidable woman I have never met. I remember thinking how interesting it would be to see Hisaeleth sit on Thranduil’s council. Something I would only wish to witness from a fly’s perspective, of course, but interesting all the same!”

Legolas snickered, glancing up into the pine tree towering above them as snow slipped from a high branch over the prince’s head. It seemed to Glorfindel that the tree shifted, and he blinked. Surely the cold had his eyes playing tricks on him, yet the snow did not land on the woodland prince, but rather beside him. Legolas did not even move, as if he knew the tree would intervene.  Glorfindel did not comment. He had seen such before and had learned it was best to just accept the strange ways of wood-elves.

And the selectiveness of trees, he thought, as another load of snow landed on his head.

Legolas laughed, eyes sparkling, as he turned back to Aragorn. "I wish I had met this woman! Then I could have determined if she had enough fire to combat my father in a Battle of Wits.”

“She was a good woman,” Aragorn confirmed. “I have never met another like her. She never had a qualm taking me to task if she thought I was out of line. And if I ever tried to pull the ‘I am the Chieftain of the dúnedain’, she would just remind me she had seen my chieftain, and I would have to give in.”

They all laughed at that, but then the man sobered. “I confess, I always backed down to her if we locked antlers over some issue. It was terrible to return to Barforod after my sojourn into Rhûn and Harad and learn she had died. Only then, did Iorthon take the title of Village Elder.”

Glorfindel felt the mood shift, the sorrow in those words, and he scooted over to put an arm around the man. “Many deaths you have had to endure, Elessar. Many more are to come. Count it to your joy that you will not live to see them all as it is with some.”

He cast a significant glance at Legolas, who shifted and glanced away.

“Aye,” Legolas whispered hoarsely before wiping a hand over his face. “Enough of this sentimentality! This game was to keep us alert, not turn us into weeping maidens.”

Aragorn burst out laughing. “By the stars, Legolas! You sounded just like Gimli! I think you even growled!”

To Glorfindel’s amazement, Legolas smirked. “Indeed, my stunted friend continues to engrave himself upon me. I do hope we will not miss too much of the celebrations. I so looked forward to spending Yule in Aglarond.”

“Well, whining about it will not change our circumstances,” Glorfindel said sardonically. He tossed a broken twig at the elf prince, who caught it deftly. “Go on, it is your turn.”

“Is it?” Legolas glanced innocently back at him. “I agree with Aragorn, your confession was greatly lacking. You should go again.”

“Oh, no. I confessed. You accepted it. Now, your turn. A confession! And a good one, too. Something neither of us has heard, and you must have been naked at some point.” He flashed a wicked smile at Legolas, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I am always naked when I bathe. The end.”

Another handful of snow landed in the prince’s face, and Glorfindel scooped up some threateningly as well. “I do not think so.”

“Come on, Legolas. It cannot be that difficult. I hardly saw you this past year, since we spent most of it in Annúminas and you in Ithilien. There must have been something.”

Glorfindel watched Aragorn lean forward with a suspicious look. “I know that expression! Something did happen! Tell us!”

Legolas's eyes widened and he shook his head.

That was all it took for Glorfindel. He was on the prince before Legolas could respond, wrapping him in a tight hold with one arm.

"You think to wrestle it out of me," Legolas asked, not even making an attempt to struggle against the hold. "Nothing will convince me to share the happenings of this past summer."

"Ah, no wrestling," Glorfindel assured him. Then he used his free hand to begin tickling his captured prey, as Aragorn howled with laughter and cheered him on.

"Who told you I was ticklish?" Legolas gasped as he squirmed, trying to twist away from Glorfindel's hold.

Glorfindel smirked as he held the struggling princeling. "I will never tell," he answered, his fingers catching Legolas at the hip bone.

Legolas squawked and began to fight for all he was worth, but he was no match for the Golden Lord of Gondolin that was, Glorfindel thought. At least, not without assistance.

A soft sound alerted him something was amiss, and then snow dumped on him from above.

Glorfindel yelped and released the elf-prince, who quickly moved out of the way, shaking off the bit of snow that had fallen on him and laughing at Glorfindel, who, much to his chagrin, had been covered.

Glorfindel attempted to brush the snow away as well, but every time he got some of it off, the branches would shift and dump more on him. Legolas, he noticed, no longer had a single flake fall on his head.

Glancing up and blinking at the shower of snow being shaken down on him, Glorfindel glared. The branches of the tree were waving back and forth.  Not another tree moved. “Call it off,” he spat through gritted teeth, moving away from the offensive pine.

 “All right. Does that mean I get out of confessing?”

“NO!” Both he and Aragorn declared, both glaring at Legolas.

Legolas whispered to the tree, and the swishing of branches stopped. With slumped shoulders and muttering imprecations under his breath, Legolas plopped back down on the log.

Glorfindel also reseated himself, but only after making sure he was sitting under a different tree. Not that it mattered, but so far, only one tree had responded to the woodland prince. He heard Legolas mutter something, but it was so garbled he could not make out the words.

Aragorn smirked. “What was that? I did not hear you.”

The Lord of Asgarnen dropped his head into his hands, shaking it before glancing up with a sheepish smile. He straightened and took a deep breath. “I, er… Well, it all started when Tathar suggested a bet...”

— o — 

Asgarnen, Ithilien

Year 11, 4^th Age

Summer

Tathar grinned that feral grin of his, and gazed upon him with a knowing expression. “You like her.”

Legolas felt his face heat at the implication. “I do not!”

The grin of his friend turned to a smirk. “Sure, you do, or you would not be turning such an interesting shade of red. You. Like. Her. Admit it! I do not blame you, Legolas. She is very pretty, charming, soft spoken...” and here the smirk turned wicked. “She would make a wonderful Lady of Asgarnen and Princess of Eryn Lasgalen!”

All the blood, which moments before had rushed to his face, now drained from his head, leaving him feeling woozy and unsteady on his feet.

“Legolas?”

Tathar jumped up from the chair behind his desk and ran around it. Legolas felt his captain ease him into one of the chairs and push his head down towards his knees. “Breathe!” the captain commanded.

Legolas, his head clearing, brushed off his friend’s hands. “I am fine! Stop that! I am not about to faint or any such nonsense!”

“You turned white, Legolas. I mean, I have never seen you that pale! Shadows, Legolas! Do not ever do that again!”

Glaring up at Tathar, Legolas shook his head and snapped, “Then do not ever – EVER! – mention such a thing to me again!” He pushed back against the chair, crossed his arms indignantly and watched Tathar rub a hand over his face.

“I had no idea you would get so upset, my lord. Forgive me.”

Legolas had the urge to pound his head against the wooden desktop nearby. He had only recently convinced Tathar to stop calling him ‘my lord’ in private. Inhaling a deep breath, he spoke through gritted teeth. “When it is just you and I, Tathar, I am Legolas...just Legolas. Do I need to spell it for you?”

Tathar swallowed and shook his head ruefully. “No, I get it.”

His second-in-command returned to his place on the other side of the desk, sank into the chair and stared at him.

“What?” Legolas asked.

“Nothing.”

“It is not nothing. I know that look!”

“It is nothing.”

Beginning to feel guilty, Legolas sighed and closed his eyes. “All right, I admit it. I like her.”

“I KNEW IT!”

Legolas jumped at the shout, his eyes opening wide. Tathar never shouted. Ever. Few were more calm and collected and diplomatic and dogmatic....

Oh, sweet Elbereth. He is like a copy of Erestor!   

“What is that look for,” Tathar asked, eyes narrowing at him.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. I know that look.” And of course, Tathar did. They had been friends since they were children. They knew each other’s expressions as well as if siblings.

“Oh stuff it, will you? I admitted I liked her, what more do you want?”

The wicked smirk was back.

Legolas cursed inwardly in Sindarin, Silvan and even Khudzul. “No, Tathar. Whatever it is the answer is NO.”

Tathar leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desktop and tapped his fingertips together. Looking over them, he said, “You asked what I wanted.” He meshed his fingers together and rested his chin on top. “I only want you to ask the lady to accompany you to the Summer Solstice Festival.”

“I would rather parade naked before the ladies’ picnic.”

“I can arrange that.” Tathar smiled, ignoring Legolas’s glare, and Legolas wondered if he should not just leave before anything more could be said. “You admitted you like her. Why not ask her?”

“Liking her does not mean I wish my interest to be known to the whole wood, Tathar." Legolas declared.

“I suppose you do not have the courage to ask her.”

His friend was daring him to do it, plain and simple. “Courage has nothing to do with it. I just do not wish to do so at this time.”

“You think she will say no?”

And that was going to far. “I know she would say yes."

“Oh, good, then you will have nothing to lose then, will you?”

Legolas gulped. He hated the sound of that. “Lose what?” Oh, he hated that feral grin! Hated it, hated it!

“Nothing much. I wouldd even allow you to keep your dignity...”

Legolas closed his eyes. Damn it all to Mordor, he was going to accept just to wipe that smirk off his friend’s face. “Fine, I will do it, and I do not care what the stakes are! She will accept.”

Evil, nasty, wicked smile.

Legolas wondered if Tathar was somehow related to Gollum. Maybe the captain could share the same fate. He just needed to drag him to Orodruin...”

“If she says yes, you take her to the festival and dance with none other. BUT," he held up a finger, "if she declines your invitation....”

To Be Continued...

Author's note: Yes, there are some veiled references to some beloved movies in this chapter. ;)

Annúminas – King’s seat in Arnor.

Asgarnen – Legolas's settlement in Ithilien. It means Rushing Water, and refers to the brisk stream lying on one side of the elven settlement in Ithilien.

Thanks for reading!