True Bow (Cuthenin)

Cuthenin (True-Bow)

by F.E.Morton


UnBeta'd

Disclaimer: just borrowing, the characters and settings are Tolkien's,
the words here are mine. No money earned.

thoughts

(elvish translations)

NOTE: Well Glorfindel tried his best to convince Legolas' family that
he is worthy. A tough thing to do when he is only just getting used to
the idea of being Faer Hebron. I hope everyone thinks he acquits
himself well and that the princes and their father are reasonably
assured. Thanks to one and
all for your patience and continued support!

Cheers,

Fred

09/02/2006


Neder-ar-Pae Peth: Dangweth o Glorfindel
(Part Nineteen: Glorfindel's Answer)

The elder princes of Greenwood tramped behind their illustrious guests,
silent and dour, their demeanour more like gaolers leading prisoners to
the dungeons than noble scions of a royal House escorting visiting
dignitaries to an audience within the grand fortress. Inarthan's
resplendent armour clinked and squeaked where leather stays and ties
rubbed against mithril links and over-lapping aurum plates, supplying
the intimidating image of the mighty warrior even though he was to the
rear of the foreign Elves. His polished, hard-soled boots struck the
stone floor with dull regularity, marking out his long-legged gait,
sending forth a reverberating tattoo, a solemn rhythm reminiscent of
the death-knell drumming of the hangman's procession winding along en
route to the gallows. Beside him, Igeredir's feet made no sound in
their suede kidskin shoes, but he unconsciously slid his jewelled, ceremonial dirk a
few centimetres from its sheath and then re-seated it, over and over.
The scraping rasp and clack, rasp and clack providing a fitting
counterpoint to his brother's weighty footfalls.

If the noose somehow fails, there is a blade at the ready for
beheading instead.

So it seemed to Glorfindel's mind as they walked, the noises recalling
an execution he had witnessed in the North Downs once not so long ago.
He glanced to Galdor and found the august Lord deep in thought,
oblivious to the affect the auditory stimulus was having upon the
Balrog Slayer.

And what is he thinking about? How to explain to Elrond and
Mithrandir that aid from Mirkwood has been denied because of my wayward
thoughts and eyes and tongue? How to make them accept that Legolas will
not be joining the Fellowship because the Princes of the Woodland Realm
fear for their little brother's virtue in my company and refuse to let
him leave? Glorfindel sighed, a sound just slightly less
miserable than a groan, abruptly halted in the hallway, and turned
to confront the King's elder sons.

"I know what this is about and it is quite unnecessary. I will leave at
once if that is what you require, only do not let my shortcomings alter
the plans agreed upon thus far," he said boldly.

"Silence!" hissed Inarthan angrily. "We will not discuss such personal
matters in the corridor. Continue, please."

Glorfindel found that an odd comment, considering the family's public
discussion in Calanhad, but complied nonetheless.

"Where is it you would have us go?" queried Galdor, coming out of his
momentary fugue at his comrade's words.

His question caused Inarthan's brows to arch upward while Igeredir made
a smirking sort of scoffing sound as he shook his head. Inarthan
quirked a wry smile and offered a brief shrug. They had all been
marching along, each mired in their particular ruminations, each
assuming the others were aware of the destination.

"My quarters?" asked the second prince of the first.

"Nay, your daughter will leave the feast early and seek you out. She
undoubtedly guessed, probably before we did, and yet I do not want any
interruptions, well-meaning though her intent would be."

"You are probably right. Yours, then." Igeredir made a motion with his
hands, instructing the guests to resume their progress, but
Galion's remarks stalled them all.

"Perhaps Lord Galdor's rooms would suit better. The study is larger and
no doubt the servants have kept the fire roaring." He smiled his
complacently patrician smile, giving it first to Igeredir and then to
Thranduil's heir.

"No, Galion, I think not," intoned Inarthan in icy timbre, eyes narrowed
in undisguised displeasure. "I am well aware of the reason you chose
those rooms, as is Adar, but in this case such measures are not
required. We will gather all the information we need without the
assistance of your unseen presence lurking in the hidden chamber
beneath the tapestry."

"As you wish," the steward dipped his head, losing neither his smile nor his
aristocratic attitude. His demeanour did nothing to endear him to Galdor, however, and his prince's remarks inflamed the noble Sadron's fury.

"Spying on me?" Galdor demanded, his face clouded with aggravation.
"Good! Fine! I am not disturbed; you are a loyal attendant to your Lord
King and that is commendable. I hope you remember the prayers you
overheard and recite them sometime; such supplications might benefit
your soul." The Lord of the Tree was more than displeased, having believed Galion was
genuinely in accord with him where the well-being of Cuthenin was
concerned. To know the seneschal had chosen the way of subterfuge and
eavesdropping was insulting.

"Nay, Lord Galdor, I did not use the secret chamber to overhear your
private speech, either when you were alone or with Glorfindel. We share
a common goal and all I have learned from you has been through direct
conversation," the butler professed, bowing humbly to the ancient Sadron, his tone stripped of its characteristic, mocking condescension.

"Then why was I given that room? Bah! I do not need to hear your reply;
the answer is obvious to all. Enough! Let us continue to your
apartment, Inarthan, and talk confidentially of this grave matter,"
Galdor spared Galion a last glare and set off again at a much brisker
pace, his disgruntled pride lending his motion a fluid speed it would
have been hard to keep up with had the other Elves not been his equals
in long-limbed height.

Glorfindel could not suppress a mirthless chuckle at the seneschal's
expense, pleased to see the haughty Elf so chastened and fittingly subdued in the aftermath, ere he followed his friend. No matter that Galion claimed to be
Legolas' friend, the Balrog Slayer neither liked nor trusted
Thranduil's cunning Sindarin henchman.

Nothing further was said as the five Elves resumed their journey and,
with Inarthan giving the necessary direction and the accelerated velocity, reached the eldest prince's rooms before many minutes more had elapsed. At the portal, Thranduil's first-born opened
the door and stepped aside to permit his visitors entry, but hastily
blocked the opening when Galion made to cross the threshold.

"That will be all, Galion. We do not require anything more this
evening. Please feel free to return to the festivities," he uttered
this imperious command in the coolly dispassionate voice of princely
superiority that welcomed no objections.

Galion attempted to make them anyway. "Your Highness, I am honoured by
your gracious offer to forego my duty and enjoy an evening of revelry
among my peers, yet I am sure my experience in affairs of the court
would prove…"

"Really, Galion, can you not understand a formal dismissal when it is
given?" snapped the King's Heir. "Ego! (Be gone!) We will manage
without you quite well." He did not wait to see the reaction this
belittling banishment would produce, but instead went within and shut
the door right in the steward's face. Inarthan found Glorfindel barely
holding back his glee over Galion's summary rejection and Galdor still
brooding over the affront to his dignity and honour. "My deepest
apologies, Lord Galdor; he is loyal to our father but I find Galion
insufferable most of the time. I have not heard him speak lies,
however, so it is…"

"I have," interjected Igeredir and the Balrog Slayer in unison. It
startled them both and they eyed one another with cautious speculation.

"Never mind, Lord Tûovor, he is of no consequence in the larger view
of things," Galdor said and waived away his injured pride with
gracious, if somewhat stiff, courtesy. A sudden thought made his eyes
widen as they scrutinised the finely appointed study with care. "Unless
he would stoop so low as to spy on his King's sons also."

"Oh, he is certainly capable of it; I have had ample proofs," scowled
Igeredir. "That is the basis for my strong aversion to the Elf. I will
not go into details but I caught him in the act of prying into what
was for me a most private and personal matter."

"Surely not!" exclaimed Glorfindel, really shocked that such an idea
might be plausible.

"Indeed, he snoops and sneaks and pokes into everyone's business: the
exalted and the common, the servants and the nobles, even in the stable
yard he has his network of information gatherers. When he so wishes, he
can be as quietly invisible as air. To the point, I am sure he is poised
behind the door right now, ear pressed against the key hole to hear
what we are saying about him." To emphasise his point, Inarthan yanked
open the heavy wooden barrier and all four Elves peered out in time to
catch a glimpse of the steward's flowing robes and auburn hair as he
hastily fled around the corner.

"By Elbereth!" Galdor could not help laughing at the mental image of
the regal seneschal scurrying for cover like a kitchen insect exposed
in its nocturnal scavenging by the light of a candle. "Why has the King
kept him in service? How do you live with such a meddlesome yenta?"

"You have heard the old saying: Keep friends close and enemies even
closer? Adar ascribes to that doctrine, feeling Galion is equal parts
ally and antagonist," answered Igeredir.

"We suffer him with caution and care. I have my quarters inspected for
unauthorised delving and stonework regularly. Igeredir does the same.
Adar checks his apartment himself, to prevent the staff from realising
he distrusts Galion and spreading the rumour," explained the elder
prince.

As he spoke, he re-closed the door and led the way to the hearth, which was crackling with cheery warmth,
motioning an invitation to sit as he moved on through an interior
doorway. From within his voice carried, along with the sounds
particular to unfastening the clasps and fittings of war gear. "He
has his uses, however, and through him Adar knows everything that is
happening in the kingdom: who is plotting with whom, what Houses are
seeking to form alliances through marriage, which ones are on the brink
of a feud, and so on." He reappeared, sans armour, discalced, garbed in
a loose tunic of white and leggings of charcoal grey.

During his brief absence, Thranduil's middle son had procured each
guest a glass of wine and now handed one to his brother as well. "That assumes Galion reports everything he learns and relays it only to Adar. I am not so trusting," he added.

They
all collected amid the chairs by the fireside and sat in uneasy,
silent, and guarded contemplation of one another, sipping the potent
vintage.

Igeredir was not willing to wait for Inarthan to begin, however, and
leaned toward Glorfindel ominously, pointing the long index finger of
his right hand at the re-born warrior's heart. "You have put Cuthenin
at risk," he said without preamble. "I will not tolerate any threat to
his well-being, no matter how renowned and legendary the source of that
danger might be."

"I have no intention of causing Cuthenin harm," objected Glorfindel,
holding up his free hand in a gesture of defensive deference. "I want
only what is best for him, truly."

"Oh? How can you think to judge what is in his interests? What do you
know of our brother?" demanded Igeredir.

"Enough, Tûr," admonished the elder prince. "Let us be frank, for
we have not time for these coy games. Lord Galdor, is this the Elf you
chose as Legolas' Faer Hebron?" Tûovor addressed the noble Sadron
gravely.

A long pause followed, for both foreign Lords were stunned to have
this question asked so directly. Inarthan had voiced the query calmly,
though not without tension, as the second son looked on, equally
attentive and serious yet likewise lacking any display of shock or
astonishment. The pair gave the impression that the nature of
Cuthenin's latent desires was not a novel subject between them. Galdor
and Glorfindel had assumed the princes discerned Glorfindel's
interest but neither had suspected the elder brothers knew of Legolas'
illicit and unlawful preference for males, for Galion had stated just
the opposite mere hours gone past. They shared their confusion in a
wary glance.

"Aye." It was Glorfindel who finally answered. He paused as the
brothers traded exasperated frowns before continuing. "You know. How
long have you suspected that Cuthenin's tastes are like my own?"

"That is irrelevant," snarled Igeredir and then proceeded to respond
anyway. "Do you think we are ignorant and backward folk just because we
do not live amid the splendour of Noldorin society? Nature is what it
is; we have other acquaintances afflicted with this curse. Besides,
Legolas is our little brother and we watched him grow up. Why are you
so surprised that we should understand him?"

"Because he has no idea that you do," intervened Galdor, hoping to
quell the rising wrath he sensed in the middle-born prince. "Is your disapproval of such desires the reason you keep him uninformed?"

"Of course we disapprove," growled Inarthan. "He is doomed either to a
life of longing and loneliness or shame and banishment from among his
people, severed from his home and family. Would you not wish otherwise
for your brother?"

"That does not mean we love him less for it," insisted Igeredir, "nor
feel ashamed of him. We had plans to aid Cuthenin."

"Your unexpected intervention has now made this impossible," Inarthan
sighed and rubbed his forehead as if it ached.

"What plans?" demanded Glorfindel in edgy apprehension.

"We had hoped to arrange a marriage to a suitable elleth for him, a
union in appearance only that he need not consummate. The idea was that
we could offer this female sufficient wealth and status to remain
silent," explained Igeredir, "and Legolas would not object should she
find an acceptable but prudent paramour willing to guard this secret."

"Once this veneer of morally and lawfully acceptable bonded bliss was
applied, we hoped to help him find a lover, someone both discreet and
caring, a true soul-mate. You two have entirely ruined this ideal,"
concluded Inarthan, in dejected and accusatory accents.

"Nay, I am Cuthenin's soul-keeper and I mean to be his life-mate. No
other will suffice, for him or for me. Who are these Elves you have
engaged for this horrific farce?" Glorfindel was on his feet, incensed
that the elder brothers would go about plotting such a course while
keeping Legolas in the dark, asking him nothing of his own hopes and
needs.

"Please be seated, Glorfindel, your indignation is misplaced," urged
Galdor calmly as he reached out and tugged on the elegant, borrowed
robe from the back, drawing his friend back down. "This scheme has not
advanced beyond some surreptitious meetings to produce a tentative list
of likely Elves, unless I am mistaken." One look at the brothers'
crestfallen features proved his assessment true. "My guess is that it
has proved more difficult than you imagined to identify who would be
dependable in such a precarious venture."

"That is so," nodded Igeredir. "We have found it impossible to
find a female, outside our own kin, we can wholly trust with Legolas'
future, and that of our House. There are more than a few Elves who would not
be displeased to arrange a shift in power, and with times what they are
the silvan people could be easily swayed to rebellion if a flaw of this
sort was revealed in the King's bloodlines."

"It has been twice as hard locating a suitable mate for afterward. Most
with such inclinations simply leave Greenwood, resettling in Lothlorien
where customs are not so strictly enforced. Yet ill-news travels
swiftly and these people's kin are subject to shunning and sometimes
more serious reprisals here. With Legolas it would be far worse. No one
would wish to subject their family to the machinations of court
politics by taking Legolas as their mate, openly or otherwise, not even
in Lothlorien,"
commented Igeredir.

"Nor would Legolas want anyone innocent to suffer for his sake,"
interposed Inarthan.

"We have noticed some who cast covetous leers in our brother's
direction, as you did this evening, Lord Glorfindel, but none upon whom
we could rely to keep up the ruse we propose. Which brings us back to
this night's imprudent display of blatant longing. Valar, anyone with
eyes could see what was in your mind! Lust and desire will not sustain
the sort of relationship you would face as Cuthenin's mate," concluded
Igeredir, once more training his accusing finger upon the Vanya warrior.

"You are not listening," Glorfindel sat forward and pointed right back.
"I just told you that I am Faer Hebron. I have held Cuthenin's feä
within my body, mingled with my spirit. There is no other who will
suffice. I defy you to produce any contender as worthy or as suitable.
And had you been watching as carefully as you claim, you would not have
missed Legolas' response to my presence."

"Indeed I did not," snorted Inarthan with a brusk discordant laugh.
"You made him nervous and ill at ease, ashamed of his reliance on his
cousin's comfort. What sort of Faer Hebron accomplishes that?"

"Well, what sort of cousin caresses his kinsman so intimately?"
Glorfindel countered, red of face to be called out for his jealous
reaction.

"Intimate caress? Is that what your low mind imagines he was doing? Ai
Valar, and they call us uncivilised," groaned Igeredir and stood up,
impatiently throwing off his elaborate robe as he carried his glass
back to the sideboard to refill it. "You have seen the heart spiral
tattoo, have you not?" he called over his shoulder irritably.

"Of course I have; it is very beautiful." The Balrog Slayer could not
prevent his mind from recalling the night of Úcaul Annaur when
he had dared to take a taste of the ripe red hub of that intricately
inscribed wheel.

"Then permit me to enlighten you, Lord Glorfindel. It is not there for
your sordid admiration and imagination. It is a collection of prayers
and protective incantations," noted Inarthan in displeasure before
switching his attention to the Lord of the Tree. "Forgive me, Lord
Galdor, but this soul-keeper you have chosen seems poorly educated
regarding the beliefs of the Elf to whom he claims to be bound."

"There has not been time," answered the Sadron. "Yet now is as good a
chance as any we shall have. Glorfindel, to touch the marks upon
Legolas' body is to invoke the prayers and blessings contained within
them. I can tell you there was nothing more going on than this as
Sûlchim traced the design. That being the location of Legolas'
deepest wound, his heart, these prayers received the most
concentration. It was not sexual in nature."

"Ah." Glorfindel could only mutter sheepishly, transferring his
contrite countenance from one to the other: Igeredir, glaring down from
his stance beside his brother's chair; Inarthan, mouth contracted into
an accusing sneer of contemptuous repugnance; Galdor, one brow quirked
high and the other lowered in remonstrance above eyes that were not
without compassion. The re-born warrior found he preferred to stare
into the dancing flames instead as he pondered his mistake. His
forehead creased in confusion, for the memory of Cuthenin's reaction to
his bold sampling of the painted skin belied the Guardian's
explanation. He returned his eyes to Galdor anew. "Hold, that is not
necessarily true. When I traced that spiral, my touch aroused him, even
in slumber."

"You did what?" Inarthan bolted from his chair and poised himself to
spring.

"Groped him while he slept! You…you…Ai! I do not know a foul enough
word!" thundered Igeredir and joined his brother's attack.

Glorfindel realised his mistake but truthfully could not deny the
charge, for that was precisely what he had been up to, and thus he
jumped to his feet and prepared to meet the brothers onslaught.

"Daro! Sîdh! Daro, Hîren!" (Stop! Peace! Stop, my Lords!)
shouted Galdor and had he not been so quick the Princes of the Woodland
Realm and the Lord of the Golden Flower would have become entangled in
a bloody brawl. The odds for Glorfindel's extrication from such a fight
unscathed would have been exceedingly poor, given the ferocity and
strength of his dual opponents. As it was, the Sadron got between them
and kept the combatants separated, if by nothing more than the length
of his extended arms and the bulk of his lanky frame. For a few seconds
of
grunting, cursing, flailing arms, and straining bodies, it seemed
Galdor would be the primary casualty as the brothers sought to get
around him to reach their prey and Glorfindel sought to meet them head
on with whatever honour he could manage under such an accusation.

"I was there!" panted the noble Noldorin emissary from Mithlond,
struggling to shove Inarthan back, for he was standing on the Sadron's
foot. "Nothing happened, much, and I punished Glorfindel for taking
liberties."

The princes paused and trained their attention on Galdor. Suddenly
realising how unseemly their behaviour was, both brothers released
their holds on the ancient Elf's hair and clothing, blushing scarlet as apologies were offered. Each sent Glorfindel a cutting
glower as they stepped back and resumed their seats, resettling their
garments and their dignity into a more respectable demeanour. The
Balrog Slayer eased cautiously onto his chair, his eyes never leaving
their faces as if he expected them to pounce at any moment. Galdor took
a moment to regain his breath, smoothing his mangled braids and
frowning over a small tear in the borrowed robe. With a disgusted
exclamation he removed it and draped the rumpled garment over the back
of the sofa. He did not return to his place by the fire, however, but
remained standing between the volatile Elves.

"If you will permit it, I believe I can explain this to everyone's
satisfaction," he announced in the clipped pitch of a supremely annoyed
and out of patience First Age Legend and esteemed Elder. Low decibel,
albeit polite, expressions of assent met his ears and he drew a calming
breath before continuing. "Everyone in this room understands and
accepts that Cuthenin finds other male Elves attractive, correct?" More
mumbled confirmations followed this. "And we also know that Glorfindel
likewise prefers ellon to elleth. Then is it so very surprising that
the two would find one another appealing?"

The pained expressions upon the elder princes' faces signified they
found this a difficult concept to comfortably embrace. They traded
uneasy glances between each other before sending the Balrog Slayer's
form awkwardly assessing appraisals. That they found it nearly
impossible to see him from their little brother's perspective, as a
source of sexual craving, was evident by the obvious distaste
contorting their fair features.

Glorfindel concentrated very hard to keep his visage as blandly
inscrutable as possible, hiding his smug satisfaction over the elder
brother's discomfort in regarding him thus. He was not so foolish as to
ruin Galdor's efforts by flaunting his much extolled masculine beauty
and grace.

"Oh come now," admonished Galdor impatiently as the silence stretched
into nearly a minute. "How can you expect to help Legolas if you refuse
to even try to understand his disposition? Is it really so impossible
to see that Glorfindel is an attractive ellon? Would you not concede,
at least, that many ellith find such a face and form alluring?"

That registered more clearly, for Inarthan and Igeredir were accustomed
to judging themselves and other males against a perceived ideal of
virility, ranking each one's relative appeal to ellith. Igeredir
cleared his throat. "Yes, we can understand that, Lord Galdor, but
Legolas is different."

"Nay, he is not different. Legolas has passed through all the same
stages of growth and development that you did and has achieved the
fullness of maturity, he is an adult male and his body and mind are
male. It is merely what he wants that is different," explained Galdor
in more kindly terms, seeing that the brothers had not as yet fully
accepted that their much younger sibling was now an adult with an
adult's needs. Logically they might perceive this and speak of Cuthenin
finding a mate, but emotionally neither of the elder princes were ready
to acknowledge this fact. He suspected that they had not thought very
deeply on what it might mean to hold desires for like kind either.

The Balrog Slayer could see that the Sadron's words had shocked the
princes deeply. He watched as they were suddenly forced to confront the
truth; their brother experienced the same carnal hungers that drove
them, the same passionate yearning burned in Cuthenin's loins, the same
instinct to find and bond with a life-mate governed Legolas' body.
Glorfindel watched as the astonishment left their frozen features,
melting slowly into sorrow underlain by anger. They had reached the
inevitable conclusion: that which was most natural for an Elf to want
was denied to Legolas, simply because he sought a male partner.

Inarthan lifted troubled eyes to meet Glorfindel's but when he spoke he
addressed Galdor. "You are trying to tell us that when this episode of
touch occurred, Legolas was more than willing for Glorfindel to do so;
it was what he wished and desired would take place."

"Yes," nodded Galdor sympathetically. "He was neither sleeping nor
unaware of Glorfindel's fascination with the tattoo and its specific
placement over such a sensitive area. Thus, both received a painful
reprimand. I take my responsibility as Tirn'wador seriously, Inarthan,
and will not permit Glorfindel to take advantage of Cuthenin, but
neither will I deny your brother the chance to explore these new
experiences as they arise."

The princes traded chagrinned frowns and then both stood. They bowed
in formal reparation to their sibling's Faer Hebron. "Forgive our
injudicious attempt at assault. I beg you will make allowances for
fraternal love," pleaded Inarthan.

"Gladly, gladly," assured Glorfindel, arising and offering his hand to
each, smiling as the traditional warrior's grip upon forearms was
exchanged. They all sat down again, more relaxed than before, and
everyone turned to Galdor expectantly.

"What is to be done?" asked Igeredir. "Legolas cannot openly proclaim
his Faer Hebron."

"He has already done so," reminded Galdor with a smile, no longer so
displeased with Cuthenin's scheme. "Few here will be able to confirm or
deny the claim of Aelluin as soul-keeper and intended mate. If some
have remarked Glorfindel's appreciation of his sister's betrothed, that
comes as no surprise, for his reputation seems much less exalted here
than in other elven domains."

"But to continue the courtship, Legolas will have to leave Greenwood.
We would not have this come to pass," argued Inarthan, "and Adar would
be devastated. He thinks that Ithil shines solely to bring out the
highlights in his youngest child's pale golden hair."

"As surely it does," this rejoinder surprised them all for it was
spoken in conjunction with the opening and subsequent closing of the
suite's oaken portal as Thranduil strode into the room, catching the end of his son's statement. "What will so
bring me to ruin, Tû? I asked you earlier not to speak of dread
fates befalling our Cuthenin." The King passed a slow evaluation over
Glorfindel as he spoke and went to help himself to wine. Glass in hand,
he joined the group and sat down on the sofa next to Galdor.

"I was not, Adar. We are discussing Legolas' future mate," said
Inarthan boldly, his mouth set and grim even as his brother grimaced
and sent him a warning glare.

Igeredir knew that look too well. As youngsters, Tûovor's
conscience had often gotten the better of him when the two engaged in
some mischief, and the eldest son would find he could not keep silent,
indicting his younger brother in the process. As far as the princes
were aware, their father had no notion of Legolas' preference for
males, and Tûrdangannen feared his sibling was about to unburden
his soul of the secret they had been keeping for over a century.

Thranduil's brows went up. "His mate? You are conscientious brothers to
worry for Legolas, but I am certain his Guardian would not have
selected an unsuitable Faer Hebron." The monarch sent Galdor a sharp
glance and then let his appraising vision return to Glorfindel, seated
across from him. It did not escape the law-father to be that his
potential son-in-law shifted in silent anxiety under this intensive
scrutiny.

"Aye, so Lord Galdor has just this moment insisted," Igeredir hurriedly
replied to forestall Inarthan's revelation. "We were just saying we do
not want Legolas to leave Greenwood to pursue this affiliation."

"Oh?" Thranduil frowned at his middle child. "You would keep him here
and deny him this chance at happiness? I am surprised by such a selfish
response, Tûr."

"Nay! I did not mean it that way," exclaimed Tûr in exasperation,
sending his brother a look composed of entreaty and warning in
equivalent measure.

Now Galdor was thoroughly enjoying this side-stepping word game on the
part of the three royals, for alone in the room he knew that each of
them was aware of the Great Secret and all wished either to honour
Legolas' trust or to protect his feelings, both in the case of the
King. Thranduil had paid a visit to the noble Sadron, after being
recalled from his youngest child's side earlier, revealing the
successful implementation of the Guardian's advise and offering
gratitude for it. With the King's timely arrival, Galdor now suspected
Legolas had informed his father of the Faer Hebron's true identity. The
ancient Noldorin emissary chuckled and shook his head, sending
Glorfindel a gleeful grin as he did so, the meaning of which was lost
on the Balrog Slayer.

"What is amusing in this situation?" demanded Inarthan indignantly, finding nothing discussed thus far worthy of laughter.

"Nothing much, just the sight of you three trying so hard to find a way
to speak of family matters among family without betraying the one
member of the family this concerns," said the Sadron kindly. "Permit me
to end this tormented verbal stand-off. Inarthan, Igeredir, your father
knows everything you know. Lord Thranduil, your elder sons understand
all about Legolas' needs and the Faer Hebron."

"And he sits here un-maimed?" quipped Thranduil, only partly jesting
for he knew his sons' tempers were not easy to appease.

"Aye, but it is only due to Lord Galdor's intervention," admitted
Igeredir. "Adar, how long have you known?"

"Just since this afternoon, though truthfully I have long felt something was wrong and simply could not face it. And you two?"

"Nearly a century and a half," said Inarthan, relieved he no longer
needed to lie to his father about his hopes for Legolas. "You
approve of Glorfindel as his mate?"

"That is what I am here to determine," Thranduil stifled his surprise
and bitter hurt for the long-term subterfuge perpetrated by his sons,
realising he was the cause of it, and turned his gaze upon Glorfindel
as he replied. "You will explain yourself to me, Lord Glorfindel of the
Golden Flower. Why did you agree to this unusual bond with my child?
You do not even know him; he cannot mean anything to you. Do you
realise what hope you have injected into his heart and what will become
of him should you turn from him now?"

"It is no less than the hope he has infused into my being as well,"
said Glorfindel. He sought frantically within his mind for the right
words, the words that would prevent the King from forbidding his suit
and permit Legolas' inclusion in the Quest. Glorfindel found he could
not get past the overwhelming fear that he might have to face returning
to Imladris without Cuthenin. He shook his head, his hands twisting
ineffectually together as he tried to make answer. "I know not what to
say to convince you that I will not be false to him or use him cruelly."

"Answer you must!" blurted Igeredir. "We will not permit you to harm
him. Have I not already stated this? Better for him to feel pain and
sorrow by breaking from you now, better a wound from which he may recover than to lose his heart to you only
to have it broken."

"Peace!" Thranduil held up his hand to admonish his second son. "Let
him find the means to enlighten us. Threats will not help Legolas'
case."

Silence followed this decree as all turned their attention pointedly
upon the re-born warrior.

Glorfindel found the father's forbearance more intimidating than
Igeredir's challenge, for he realised keenly that Thranduil would not
be appeased by trite or commonplace declarations of love and devotion.
The King would accept nothing less than exposure of his very soul, and
the Balrog Slayer was beyond comprehending how to do so when he had
diligently trained himself never to reveal it. Even to myself.
I would give anything for Arwen's aid just now.
Fileg'lîr was far away, however, and he had none to rely upon but
himself. He heaved a disconsolate breath and met Thranduil's guarded
stare.

"We are the same, your son and I," he began and flinched as obvious
puzzlement and displeasure coloured the King's expression. The Vanya
warrior realised that such an equivalent reckoning, given his less than
laudable reputation in the Woodland Realm, was not flattering to
Cuthenin and tried again. "Our Song, the Music that makes us who we
are, this is of the same source and bears the same theme. He is the
Melody to my Harmony. Separately, we are ordinary, uninspired,
incomplete, dissonant notes plucked at random upon a harp, existing in
this place but nothing more. Together we are a thing so rare I know not
how to describe it to you properly," he paused and rubbed his temples,
trying to think coherently. Glorfindel took another breath and
continued, sensing the monarch waiting expectantly for the rest.

"It is like glimpsing the mind of Eru when you look upon Arda in all
its glorious complexity. Can you imagine our world lacking the mountain
heights or the running rivers? So it is with me and Legolas. There has
been something missing in my world all these long years and I have been
waiting to discover it. I have dreamed of Legolas yet did not know who
he was. He has been part of my comprehension since I have had the
capacity to reason, a source of unnamed sorrow and unidentifiable
longing for that which is needed yet absent. I cannot turn from him,
not ever, for now I know that the part of me that I require to become
whole resides within Cuthenin.

"I could tell you he is fair and I am drawn to that beauty; it is no
lie. I could laud his fine character and valourous courage, his skill
and daring, his genuine heart and trusting soul. These things you know
of, even better than I, yet they are secondary to this other, more
vital quality that has ensnared me. I have held his soul within mine
and in that moment we were the same; it was clear to me and to him. Our
union cannot be denied, King Thranduil; it would be the end of us
both." Glorfindel stopped talking, fearing more speech would achieve
only negative results, and awaited Thranduil's judgement. He felt his
explanation was terribly inept and wanting in eloquence, but prayed for
it to be acceptable nonetheless.

The quiet of the study was like the portentous solitude of the
gathering dawn, a moment filled not with dread but with anticipation, a
brief interval of waiting composed of pleasing imagining of the beauty
and promise held in the reappearance of Anor. The soundless
contemplation bespoke confidence in the dispelling of the shades of
night where fears had many darkened corners in which to be concealed,
festering and painful to the heart. A fore-gleam of hope, faint and
glimmering upon the horizon's edge, drew all attention and interest as
everyone pondered Glorfindel's unorthodox declaration. Finally,
Thranduil inhaled deeply and spoke.

"You love him," he said simply and smiled, "though how it can be so has
you just as confused as it does us. I cannot ask more at this stage,
for the truth in your voice will not be gainsaid. Still, you will
proceed with caution and follow the proper path. Faras-uin-Ind will be
completed and I  must insist on being present for any formal and
public acknowledgement of this unexpected bond. Galdor, you will see
to it that Glorfindel is correctly instructed in this?"

"Indeed, it shall be my pleasure to ensure all goes forward with due
propriety, my Lord," Galdor was smiling with joy for such a satisfying
outcome and laughed to see Glorfindel's dumbfounded expression. "Have
you nothing to say to your future law-father, mellon vrûn?" (old
friend) he said as he nudged the Balrog Slayer's shoulder.

"I am gratified by this endorsement, my Lord, more than my stumbling
tongue can express," stammered Glorfindel as he rose and bowed to the
King. "I will not betray this trust, I swear it by all that is good and
holy."

"Well said," approved Inarthan. He stood and leaned forward to lay his
hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder in support that was yet heavy with
foreboding menace. "We shall of course hold you to it."

"Aye. Let but a whisper of infidelity or betrayal reach our ears and
you will find Mandos a more agreeable habitat than Imladris," added
Igeredir, not entirely convinced but unwilling to defy his sire's
decision. "Which returns us to the discussion of Legolas leaving
Greenwood."

"I would not wish him to be severed from his home and family," mourned
Glorfindel, "yet I cannot see how I can reside here as Cuthenin's mate
without causing strife that would affect the entire realm."

"So he has spoken of this with you," nodded Thranduil, "and thus he
hatched this little plot about Aelluin. Is there even such an Elf in
existence?"

"There is, though she resides in Aman," insisted Glorfindel. Beside
him, the older brothers huffed in good-natured irritation over Legolas'
ruse, a clear indication they had been victims of their younger
sibling's machinations previously.

"For now I can do nothing to change the Laws that hinder your
citizenship," continued the King sadly. "The Shadow grows and the
people are frightened. They want stability and surety, as unlikely as
such things are to be found in the coming conflict. Internal dissension
would weaken us and lend aid to the Dark Lord's cause. Know that it is
a rule I will quickly render null and void once the Quest is
successful."

"If it is so," groused Inarthan. "I still feel the plan is flawed. How
can so few hope to succeed against Sauron's army?"

"It is not so unheard of for a few, or even a single individual, to
change the course of fate. I was at the Last Alliance where all our
efforts, all our sacrifice in lives, all the strength of the combined
armies of the free peoples, availed us naught in the face of Isildur's
pride and greed," reminded Thranduil and silenced further condemnation
of Elrond's scheme. Everyone became quiet as they thought on the peril
the venture enfolded in its undertaking.

"Well, this is a first," announced Igeredir abruptly.

"What?" demanded his brother.

"Galion is the only one who does not know what is going on for a
change."

"Hah! Do not count on that," warned Thranduil, laughing. "He has means
to find out what is going on way ahead of anyone else."

"Ai! He is intolerable and if he knows he is a threat to Legolas'
happiness," complained Inarthan bitterly.

"Nay," surprisingly it was Glorfindel who took up the butler's defence.
"He does not plan to harm Cuthenin. If he wished it he could have
brought down the House of Oropher long ago, for he has been aware of
your brother's inclination since the very beginning."

"Thank you," came a softly muffled answer wafting in arrogant and
pretentious tones from some indiscriminate location not too far afield,
the unmistakable voice of the worthy steward.

"Galion!" thundered Inarthan, stalking about his study, thumping
on the walls, yanking back tapestries, peering behind paintings, and
stamping on the ground to test for hollow zones. "Come out at once! I
will not tolerate this inexcusable insinuation into my private
affairs!" No response greeted his demands, however, and in fuming
aggravation the Heir ceased his ranting, scowling at the poorly
concealed amusement adorning everyone else's countenances. "Adar, I
must insist you make him stop. But give me leave and I will have him
doused in the Enchanted River; that will deplete him of all his
ill-gotten information."

A disembodied squawk of combined fear and rage drifted through the room
accompanied by a muted scurrying sort of sound.

"No, I depend on his vast store of information regarding the various
Houses. He is devoted to our family; worry not for your secrets to
remain hidden,"
placated the King. "Now, we have other matters before us to decide. I
would not have our three scouts return over the High Pass alone,
considering the terrible losses incurred by Legolas' company on the
same path just weeks ago.

"Join me, for this discussion must take place
in the war room; I have need of my maps as well as my sons'
evaluation and
recommendations regarding the size and the roster of such a company.
Lord Galdor, if you would go and retrieve Legolas from my chambers I
would be grateful. Much as I dislike disturbing his rest, his knowledge
of the conditions of the road is first-hand and thus vital."

"I shall do so gladly," spoke the Sadron, doubting he would find his
charge sleeping in light of the topic recently under discussion.

"Permit me to accompany you," offered Glorfindel and felt the tight
compression of
Thranduil's grip upon his elbow the next instant.

"Nay, you will come with me, Lord Glorfindel. No need to put your
promise of virtuous conduct to the test so soon," he remarked, tugging
to ensure the Balrog Slayer stayed beside him as they exited the
chamber.

TBC