Aearlinn

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Another Week Later… ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"How now, elfling? You are round as a winter melon!"

The wizard's playful quip caused the smile already moulding Legolas' features to increase in brilliance and sheer exuberance as he stood before the venerable Istar in Elrond's office. He shifted, wavering between shy self-consciousness and blossoming pride, one hand softly following the new curvature to his anatomy, a lovely tinge of rose staining his high cheeks. Legolas' sight flickered to his mate, marking the candidly proprietary delight suffusing Elrond's features, and utterly failed to suppress the exultant flashes of gold that lit up his normally subdued elven glow.

"Ai! Mithrandir, I am not so big yet," he complained with what was quite obviously feigned indignation, for the gleam in his blue eyes sparkled all the more as Elrond's adoring gaze tracked over his transforming figure.

"Nay, not yet, maethor neth, but I am glad to see you filling out a little," said the wizard, his face creased into a maze of jubilant folds and crevasses, so happy was he to see the marked improvement in both the Wood Elf's mental and physical health. Of course, in this early stage gestation was hardly noticeable at all, but Legolas no longer looked so haunted and discontent; in fact, he looked positively radiant.

Mithrandir settled into Elrond's most comfortable upholstered chair beside the empty hearth, foregoing his usual place on the balcony where smoking was permitted. It was impossible to judge what substances might give Legolas a serious reaction and no-one wanted another case of poisoning to afflict him or the developing babe. He watched as the pair left the desk, which was littered with enormous scrolls displaying what looked like plans for some sort of construction, the discredited Lord leading his mate by their tightly clasped hands. There was no doubt in the wizard's mind that Elrond's decision to recognise the bond had been the right one, for both the parents and the unborn child.

He was also convinced this was best for Imladris' citizens as well, though it might be difficult for them to envision the benefit one lowly Wood Elf could bring to their world. The Maia had become quite concerned over the deep-seated distrust and poorly restrained hostility toward the sylvan people, now openly displayed, that had been gradually increasing as time went on. It was a wonder to him that the Imladrians could not realise they were behaving just as xenophobic and proud as they frequently accused Thranduil and his folk of being. No matter, Mithrandir was about to set them right, with Legolas' help, and was happy to do it. The Age was steadily growing dark and dangerous; it was no time for petty biases to divide what remained of the First-born. Legolas' presence at Elrond's side and the ensuing pregnancy was as clear an indication as one could hope to find that the Valar were determined to bring those divisions to an end.

Considering time gave him another thought: "How many months along are you now?"

"Ah, nearly three I should think," answered the revered healer as he took the chair opposite the wizard. Elrond was a bit taken aback by his youthful mate's outburst of sprightly laughter and looked askance as Legolas settled on the arm of the seat.

"Nearly? Surely you can be more exact than that." Now, Legolas knew full well that Elrond had no idea of the exact day of conception and wasn't above ribbing him about it. Truly, it was a serious issue yet he feared to broach it with the gravity that was its due.

"Well, no. I have made a fair estimation, in general terms, but can't name the exact day itself," Elrond admitted with rueful hesitance, wondering if his ignorance would upset Legolas.

He never knew from one day to the next what would or would not send the sylvan archer into either furious outrage, miserable despondency, or elated joy. Indeed, sometimes his moods shift from minute to minute. He was pleased to see that happy contentment had the upper hand just now. Elrond didn't really mind the moodiness, though, and did all he could to ease the anxiety these rapid swings of emotion caused his beloved. Legolas was sometimes frightened of the changes overtaking him with ever increasing intensity, for he had finally admitted he'd never observed another male with child. Getting him to reveal that had been easy compared to convincing him that the symptoms were normal.

Elrond had never attended a male pregnancy either, needless to say, and nothing was known about such cases. Not a single word in a single book in all of his magnificent collection referred to the unique configuration of select sylvan males. The renowned healer could only base his assessment of Legolas' new traits on comparisons to common female child-bearing complaints. Yet, except for his oscillating temperament and the amplified radiance of his elvish aura, none of the pregnancy's manifestations followed a predictable pattern. There were no extended periods of Ôlpathu, no decrease in desire for intimacy, no light-headedness, no loss of acuity in hearing and sight. Instead, Legolas had become hyperaware, his natural senses enhanced so that it seemed nothing taking place anywhere on the grounds of the estate escaped his notice. He was completely at ease with sifting through and discarding most of the signals but the few incidents he'd brought to Elrond's attention proved beyond doubt how much his perception had increased.

Not all the changes were so bizarre. Much to the Elven Lord's satisfaction, Legolas' need for lovemaking seemed to be increasing and when not engaged in such delightful congress he craved to be close, refusing to permit protracted separations. The two spent long hours in one another's company, almost as indivisible as the twins, and their dream-cycles were finally beginning to separate. Never precisely in synchrony due to the inequitable nature of their bond, the couples' Ôlpathu stages had nonetheless become closely co-ordinated over the passing of ten years. Now, the inexorable power of instinct and the unshakeable fervour of his love caused Elrond to remain alert and vigilant when Legolas entered deep reverie. The famed lore-master couldn't recall anything that filled him with a greater sense of purpose, accomplishment, and serenity as watching Aearen, curled in his lap or clinging to his arm, gradually returning from dream-time, the vibration of his sylvan soul-song seamlessly giving way to softly sung Nandorin lays of love.

Beyond these pleasurable permutations, Legolas had become incredibly industrious over the last two weeks, making all manner of things from arrows to woven reed baskets, hampers, and mats, the latter presumably to line the floor of the talan once it was built. Its design was the other most obvious sign of his changing focus, for Legolas spent hours sketching and then presenting various floor plans for his mate's approval. Elrond was amazed at the amount of sophistication contained in these designs and commended Legolas on both his skill and sense of style. If the plans could truly be safely built, their talan would be as grand as any he'd seen in Lothlorien, barring the absence of stairs. Yet, though each layout was equally impressive and Elrond's approbation for every adaptation was both effusive and genuine, the Wood Elf was not satisfied and continued to make modifications and improvements.

Now the deposed Lord, once so pompously imperious, recalled the failure of his first marriage and vowed not to repeat his errors. Elrond sought to be solicitous in all his interactions with his betrothed and was mindful of Legolas' expectations regarding his role as affianced mate and sire of the nascent child. The Wood Elf wished for him to take part in all this zealous planning and production with equal or greater enthusiasm and involvement. Elrond did try and his insight and sensitivity were much improved, but it was undeniable that whatever discord arose between them was rooted in his inadequate ability to discern when Legolas' requests were linked to this innate drive to be ready and when they were merely whims of the moment. Thus, having just admitted his ignorance over so vital and momentous an event, the date of their first child's conception, he waited in a state of wary suspense to learn what the archer's response would be.

"I will tell our wise wizard, then," Legolas stated brightly, not unmindful of Elrond's apprehension. "Tinu Mín has been with us now for ninety-six days." He watched as his beloved Nín'ódhel worked that out, waiting for the realisation, thrilled to see mingled surprise and apologetic adoration filling the elder Elf's eyes. He'd been wanting to reveal this for weeks and every time he made the attempt something held him back. Secretly, he worried Elrond would feel rancour due to the way it had all come about, for Legolas had neither consulted him regarding children nor divulged his reasons for wanting a babe just then at that specific time. It had been rather sneaky; actually, it had been wholly deceitful and Legolas feared that somewhere inside Elrond might resent him for it, especially in light of the rift in the valley's political order.

"Aye, that makes things much clearer to me," Elrond nodded as he embraced Legolas. The peculiar sensation of unbearable heat, the Wood Elf's heightened libido, the unexpected initiation of sexual overtures, traipsing about in naked splendour, shamelessly flaunting his engorged arousal: all these things were out of character for Legolas and all these things denoted the day of the fountain. The Elven Lord bit back the desire to express remorse over Legolas' inability to confide in him then, for it would not benefit either of them and could possibly raise unpleasant memories. Besides, ninety-six days ago, he probably wouldn't have been open to the prospect of fathering an elfling with Legolas, even if he'd considered such a feat possible. Indeed, I couldn't imagine a proper binding ceremony uniting us; is it any wonder he was forced to such extremes? "You chose a good day and a finer place I could not imagine." He tipped down the chin so given to stubbornness and settled a gentle kiss on smiling lips.

"Delightful," murmured the old Maia as he observed this charming display of billing and cooing, pleased the pair were holding up so well. Of course he'd expected trouble but the harshness of the reaction was beyond his imagining. He'd been accosted almost as soon as he crossed Bruinen by several of the Councillors and Lords eager to give him an earful of the 'dangerous situation' into which their fair valley had fallen. He'd let them talk, for he needed to assess the severity of the breach, but refused to give any counsel one way or the other. They had called a hearing and now they would have to endure it, including the regret they would feel once the truth was known. Thinking in that vein prompted another question. "Any word as to when your family arrives, Legolas?"

"I had a letter five days ago that they were crossing the pass through Hithaeglir. It is a treacherous place and I won't be easy in my soul until another message confirms their safety. I hope to hear from them soon," replied Legolas. He was impatient for this missive to get to him, unable to quell the unreasoning fears that accosted his thoughts with nightmarish images of battle, blood, and death. He hid all this from Elrond, feeling there was enough on the Noldorin Lord's mind just now.

"I'm sure they're fine. No doubt your Adar will bring along plenty of warriors to protect the entourage," asserted the wizard. He had his own reasons for wanting the Wood Elves to get to Imladris with all speed and turned a speculative look upon Elrond. The reference to warriors had widened his eyes a bit but certainly this was a possibility Glorfindel and Erestor had already broached. It was equally as clear as water that the son of Eärendil still had no notion of who was about to become his law-father.

Mithrandir sighed just a minute amount and let a split-second's worth of visual chastisement fall upon Legolas, for he wasn't sure how he felt about the magnitude of this looming prank. Yet, perhaps the sylvan was entitled to some retribution for the last ten years of humiliation he'd endured. Mithrandir gave a mental shrug; it wasn't any of his business, really, and it was mostly Elrond's fault for failing to delve into his mate's history with greater interest. He returned his attention to the Elven Lord with a grimace. "Now then, much as I hate to bring any unpleasant thought into this happy house, it must be done. Mellon, what do you want me to do about these misguided fools with which you have peopled your Council?"

"Aye, they are seemingly both blind and deaf these days," groused Elrond, visibly agitated by the mere thought of dealing with the disgruntled nobles. He sighed and shrugged. "I cannot deny that most of what they claim could have been refuted long ago had I taken appropriate action. Now, they will not listen to anything I say."

"No matter, they will heed me. I've arranged for the hearing to convene this morning," said the wizard.

"They are coming here now?" Elrond didn't attempt to moderate his surprise. "Mithrandir, you've only just arrived. I expected to have time to confer with you as to the best course of action."

"Nay, delaying it will only allow them to grow suspicious of my autonomy. We don't want anyone bringing up the Melian situation," warned the wise Istar.

"True, except that Thingol was Sindarin and he was the one ensnared by her magic, not the other way round," reminded the Elven Lord.

"Who can say what really happened?" Mithrandir shrugged. "The Sindar are of the Teleri tribe also, are they not? The point is, I would rather not have to argue the point."

"Beloved, would the Lords of the vale feel differently about our union if I were Sindarin instead of Nandorin?" Legolas asked.

"Yes, sadly that is the unpleasant reality I have permitted and even fostered for many long centuries. There has never been much contact between your people and mine in Ages past, none at all since the Last Alliance, yet our ties to the Sindarin folk are strong in both Mithlond and Lothlorien. Celeborn of Lothlorien, kin to Thingol himself, is my law-father and thus the grandfather of my children with Celebrian, who was half-Sindarin herself," Elrond's tone was honestly apologetic.

"Ah, being even half-Sindarin would help, then?" Legolas worked hard to subdue the grin attempting to break free.

"Yes, elfling, it would indeed," nodded Mithrandir hopefully. If Legolas would reveal his true heritage to the Council of Imladris, a major obstacle would dissipate as quickly as a smoke ring in the wind. "Of course, there is still the problem of your gender, the previous marriage, the silvan enchantment issue, and sizeable cultural differences to manage somehow, but I think the obvious love between you two and the little babe will overcome most of the objections."

"Well, not meaning any offence, Legolas, but debating bloodlines is not beneficial to our cause. Mithrandir, you are right; no need to complicate things with the Melian issue. Let them come now," agreed Elrond. He stood and raised Legolas with him, meeting the clear blue gaze and wondering a bit about the sparkle of amusement dancing through it. He began to lead the way toward the open balcony. "Aearen, this is not something in which you should participate. I want you to go along and start the project you told me of last night."

"Ai! Let me stay for the Council, Elrond." Legolas balked at being sent away like a child and found his temper flaring. He ducked out from under his mate's protective arm and reversed direction to rejoin the Maia, now also on his feet. "I wish to answer their objections openly."

"I know you want to help, but the Lords and Councillors will only assert you are attempting to exert magical influence over them. It is a fine morning and the hearing may go on for some hours; you did say you had no wish to remain indoors all day."

"Aye, but this is more important than…"

"Nay, nothing is more important than your well-being. I will not allow them to insult you ever again, especially here in my…our house, and neither will I countenance their presence to cause you either heartache or vexation."

"But if I'm not here won't they think I'm trying to hide from Mithrandir's scrutiny?"

"He does have a point," the Maia interposed, observing the exchange closely, wondering what Vairë was thinking to bring two such bull-headed Elves together. "They may use Legolas' absence as an indication of his certain guilt."

"Saes, Beloved, I cannot stand the thought of them unseating you because of me. Mayhap if I am here and they see that no ill effects perturb them, they will relent at last." Legolas pleaded.

"I concur with Legolas' view of the matter. Let the Elves stand in his presence and see if they still harbour such negative opinions," added the wizard. "They will quickly discover how delightful he really is." He laid two gnarled but kindly hands upon the Wood Elf's shoulders and gave an encouraging squeeze, returning Legolas' smile of gratitude with one of benevolent compassion.

"Nay, I will not permit the bearer of my babe to be brought to trial, enduring whatever inquisition their addled minds imagine would prove their fears true. If they want me to step down permanently, so be it. My sons are more than of age and fit for the task of governing the valley," came Elrond's belligerent response. "And if you want to know the truth of it, I'm enjoying this simpler life with my mate. I think I deserve a time of harmonious domestic bliss, unhampered by the cares of every living soul in the realm. Legolas and the child need me and I intend to provide every comfort and solace I'm capable of producing."

"Oh, Nín'ódhel," Legolas sighed, all his anxiety melting away in the warmth of this avowal. He scurried right back to his beloved's side and regained hold of his hand, leaning up to demand a kiss. It was swift and sweet, for the wizard was watching, but it made his heart sing nonetheless. "It needn't come to that, surely. Promise me you will reason with your people and let Mithrandir's testimony win them over. Besides, your sons have a calling already and would not be pleased to abandon a vow so close to their hearts."

"Legolas is right. Imladris needs you, Elrond, and I will do all I can to prevent this dissension from evolving into ugly schism. Your wisdom and knowledge will be required for a greater task that even now approaches its dawn. Forces are moving, both of good and of evil, and the son of Eärendil must be ready to play his vital part," intoned the venerable Istar.

The two Elves stared at him in consternation for his words had the ring of prophecy. Legolas reached up with his free hand and clutched to Elrond's tunic, eyes wide and fearful as they met his mate's. Elrond sighed and squeezed the archer's fingers, running a soothing caress over shining golden hair as he bent to kiss the worry-wrinkled forehead.

"Be not afraid, Aearen. He is not talking about sending me off to war. Are you Mithrandir?" The Elven Lord sent his friend an admonishing glare for causing Legolas such needless distress.

"No, no, of course not. Young one, I swear to you I will not have your mate placed in harm's way. He is to remain here in the protected valley, that much I can promise." The wizard hastily amended his dire proclamation, knowing full well that he could not offer the same assurance to Elrond and glad not to be asked.

"You see? Nothing to fear. You must leave this unfortunate trial for me and Mithrandir to weather. If the Valar wish me to remain as the leader of these stubborn, prideful, and ignorant people then it shall be so. I will defer to their will and accept my fate, as always. You are part of that fate now, too, and so I cannot help but desire to do what is best for you and our child. If the two duties can't be reconciled, I reserve the right to choose which shall receive my undivided devotion.

"Have no more doubts as to my preference; I have fully realised the folly of denying my heart in favour of this false sense of majesty and power I have jealousy nurtured for so long. Please, let me handle my colleagues' concerns alone; I would spare you their hostile stares and cruel words." Elrond drew Legolas close so to murmur these comforting entreaties into a delicate ear that grew warm and rosy under the touch of his breath. He felt the little shiver that ran through the Wood Elf's muscles, driving away all tension.

"I will do whatever you think is best," Legolas replied obediently. He gave Elrond a quick hug and stood back, smiling with only a hint of his anxiety showing through. With that he gave a short nod to Mithrandir and exited over the railing and into the grounds.

Elrond moved onto the balcony to watch him loping away toward the lily-bog, smiling in anticipation of the days ahead. He was almost hoping the Council would refuse to accept his marriage and thus free him to spend all of his time with Legolas. He found he grew more and more eager for the next surprising thing he would discover about his unusual Wood Elf. It hadn't taken long at all for him to simply stop thinking about what was going on in the realm. Erestor and Glorfindel were acting as his emissaries, bringing him updates on the affairs of the Hidden Vale and the welfare of its people, carrying his advice back to the community where these 'suggestions' were almost unilaterally incorporated. Everything was functioning just as it always had done before and he quite liked the new arrangement.

"He's a remarkable Elf," said Mithrandir, joining his friend and fishing out his pipe and pouch from within his coarse grey robes.

"That he is," beamed Elrond. "Worth ten of any of those haughty Imladrian nobles so set on condemning him."

"Aye, yet you haven't given them much of a chance to form a kind opinion of your young mate," berated the wizard. He lit the shredded tobacco with practised speed and soon had a soft white cloud collecting around his long grey hair. "Why have you kept Legolas so much apart from your people? I assure you, the key to resolving this is for them to see and know him. Legolas is an absolute delight and anyone who can resist his genuine goodwill is someone I would not be likely to trust in a serious situation."

"Aye, I agree with you. The fault is both his and mine. I didn't understand all the nuances and repercussions to this instinctive bond of last resort. He couldn't reveal this to me, at first because he was so very ill and later because he was overwhelmed in guilt and shame." A discreet cough arose from outside the study door, announcing Erestor's presence. "Come in," called Elrond, "we are out here. Is Glorfindel with you?"

"Nay, he is on the way. He went to the main gate to give instruction to the wardens assigned to it," answered the seneschal as he advanced. "Legolas is not to attend?"

"No, I see no reason to subject him and our child to the unwarranted malice these pompous aristocrats would direct their way," brooded Elrond.

"Well, I must tell you bluntly that your outlook is completely erroneous," announced the wizard. "Have you noticed anything about the people who ARE in daily contact with Legolas?"

The Lord and his kinsman looked at one another in obvious confusion. "What do you mean?" demanded Elrond.

"No time to explain it all now; I'll reveal this to the Council at large. Erestor is here to tell us the Lords and Advisors have arrived, correct?"

"Aye, they are waiting in the Council Hall, highly displeased and eager to get started."

"Displeased about what?" demanded Elrond.

"The common folk insisted on attending and the Lords wished to close the hearing. There was quite a little altercation brewing before your gates, cousin. Legolas must have heard the commotion on his way to the woods and suddenly showed up, telling the guards to let in all who wanted to be there. He said the Last Homely House has never been closed to any who sought counsel or needed healing and Glorfindel sided with him. The citizens thanked Legolas and many promised their support." Such a story would once have made Erestor laugh but now he worried over the ill feeling this could generate among the nobles.

"Good for him and good for the sensible folk of the fair vale!" exclaimed Mithrandir with heartfelt admiration. "Let us convene this hearing and put an end to this nonsense once and for all."

"Aye. I want this done by noon so I may join Legolas and help with his latest project," announced Elrond.

"You aren't going down there dressed like that, are you?" demanded Erestor, horrified.

As had become the norm, the esteemed scion of Eärendil was wearing hunting regalia much of the sort that Legolas was wont to don, consisting of close-fitting leggings, knee-high leather boots, silk shirt, and a short tunic that reached mid-thigh. He found such an outfit eminently more comfortable and appropriate for he really was hunting nearly every day and much of his time was spent outdoors. Now, he'd not had the gumption to actually go and commission new togs from his personal tailor so Elrond had simply raided his sons' closets where there were ample examples of the rugged, though finely made, sporting apparel. These were crafted of the very best leather and wool and decorated almost as elegantly as any formal robe might be, as suited the sons of such a noble House. Being nearly the same size as their father, the twins' clothes fit him well.

"Why not?" barked the Elven Lord. "This is more suitable for the new life I lead and compliments the sylvan braids perfectly."

"That may well be but it is hardly appropriate attire for a formal hearing before the full Council and a good portion of the valley's population at large," objected the seneschal. "Are you purposely seeking to antagonise them? Do you want to be deposed permanently?"

"That won't do," fussed the wizard. "Elrond, dress in your traditional garb; we've enough of a challenge before us without making so bold a statement. Once we've won these haughty Lords over, your change of style will be accepted without question."

"Aye, you must present an authoritative yet conservative figure, unchanged by the inclusion of Legolas in your life," averred Erestor, "and don't forget the mithril circlet Elros gave you."

"I have changed and I'm not ashamed to admit it is for the better. Legolas has forced me to re-evaluate my priorities," insisted Elrond.

"We do not disagree," cajoled the Istar, "but this is not the time to expound upon the benefits of taking a youthful sylvan lover. Please, mellon, go and change your garments."

"Fine, but I will not remove the braids and absolutely refuse to wear the circlet," Elrond compromised. "Elros had that made as a cruel joke in retribution for that time I hired all those human dancing girls to crash his third son's Coming of Age party."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Thirty Minutes Later, the Council Hall ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Now, the Council Hall of Imladris was actually not a hall at all. This critical locus of power, the very beacon of hope for freedom and autonomy amid the darkening world, was located in a classically elegant outdoor amphitheatre. Classical in the Noldorin sense, of course, complete with a great oval stone table of polished marble, matching high-backed chairs in groups of three, carved with the symbols and seals of the various noble Houses for which they were designated, and a secondary ring of marble benches, not so fancy or finely carved, upon which would settle the Advisors elected from the among the citizens to represent the various guilds to which they belonged. Behind the benches, a semi-circular gallery of pale green limestone surrounded the entire elaborate construction so that any citizens who wished might attend the meetings of their government.

The important concerns of military defence were the sole domain of Glorfindel and he had an appropriately remarkable chair of his own set apart yet just to the right of Elrond's. Visiting delegates from foreign lands were not permitted, as a rule, to attend Imladris' Council Sessions, but seats for them were situated at Elrond's left. These were empty unless the White Council met in Imladris and Galadriel, Círdan, Saruman, Radagast, and Mithrandir were present. At the foot of the great table was the seat for the Chief Advisor to the Lord of the Vale where Erestor resided over procedure and protocol and took meticulously accurate minutes of every assembly. Erestor had a lovely bell cast of mithril with which he called such meetings to order and it was there on the table now.

This day, there weren't enough places in the gallery to hold the spectators for practically every Elf in the valley wished to witness the momentous proceedings. Glorfindel had given the gate-wardens strict instructions to allow in only the exact number of people that could comfortably fill the seats. All others were turned away, though they didn't leave and a huge throng collected on the other side of the locked gates, murmuring and grumbling in complaint to be left out. In hopes of placating them, Erestor had ordered refreshments and sent Lindir to keep them entertained. He didn't think too deeply about that request since Lindir was after all Elrond's official minstrel, but the citizens were suddenly curious about the golden-haired singer now that they knew he was silvan. Lindir was unconcerned and considered it not only his duty but his honour to answer their questions and prove how ridiculous the rumours of Elrond's enchantment were.

(Ah, yes. That spot of trouble between our prejudiced Chief Advisor and our beloved, though emotionally scarred, minstrel has not been forgotten and shall be both revealed and resolved in good time. For now, let's just accept that they are both adults with Ages of experience in diplomacy. They are treating each other with courteous, if somewhat chilly, civility.)

When Elrond, Mithrandir, and Erestor arrived in the Council Hall, they found Glorfindel already there attempting to allay the irritation of the nobles who had been kept waiting while the denounced Lord changed his clothes. They milled about in small clumps, some mixing with the Advisors while others held themselves aloof from these highly regarded though common folk. As is usually the case in such groups, there were a few who took the lead and tried to sway everyone else to their view. In Imladris, the principal adversaries to whatever Elrond proposed were Fennas, a direct descendant of one of Turgon's cousins and Badhor, an influential commoner of Sindarin heritage and head of the Cattle-herders' Guild. They were moving amid the aristocrats and the livestock merchants, soliciting votes for denouncing the wedding, and few disputed with them.

In the secondary ring for the elected Advisors, the delegates were much more vocal and contentious, for opinions concerning Legolas differed widely. Some were fearful and suspicious of magic; some harboured resentment over loved ones lost at the Last Alliance, clinging to the theory that the Wood Elves' stubbornness caused the demise of Gil-galad and a goodly portion of his elite warriors. Yet, many spoke of him with warmth and compassion, remarking on his efforts as one of the guards, his love for all of nature, and his quiet, unassuming presence among them. Chief among these proponents were Aegas the jewel-smith, head of the Gem-cutters' Guild and Alphdal the gardener of the Last Homely House and chief of the Horticultural Guild. It should be obvious how these two knew Legolas and it was equally apparent that many of the regular folk were allied with them, approving the betrothal.

All the the indistinct chatter ceased as the Elven Lord entered and every eye tracked him as he passed among the crowd and stood before his chair, Mithrandir and Erestor on either side of him. Elrond did not shy from meeting the nobles' stern, disapproving stares and returned the looks with openly affronted disdain moulding his refined features. He was not surprised by those who sent him smiles and nods of encouragement either, for he had marked well who among his people had voted against the motion to suspend his authority. He made sure to acknowledge these supporters, noting that nearly all belonged to the merchants, craftsmen, and artisans of the realm. The wizard and the seneschal left him to take their places and everyone else followed suit. Elrond sat and then a soft clamour of padding feet, swishing robes, and the muted plops of many posteriors settling on stone replaced the silence for a moment. A rather tense interval transpired and then Erestor struck three chimes upon his bell.

"I hear by call this assembly to order," he announced briskly. "Our task today is to determine what effect, if any, the presence of Legolas of Mirkwood has upon our Lord, Elrond of Imladris, and, if such impact is proved, whether or not it is detrimental to him and to our realm as a whole. Is it still the intent of this body to conduct this hearing?"

"Aye!" the Lords and Advisors chorused as one.

"So be it. Will you accept the testimony of Mithrandir as an expert on matters pertaining to magic, sorcery, and the will of the Valar?" demanded Erestor. Again a resounding call affirmed his question. "Then, let us hear what the herald of Manwë has to say."

Mithrandir rose but before he could speak one of the nobles lifted his right hand to signal his desire to take the floor. Erestor recognised the Elf and Fennas rose also, for it was he. With a polite bow to Mithrandir, he turned on Elrond and fired off the first volley in the battle for control of Imladris.

"I do not see the Wood Elf here. How can we test his integrity if he is absent? Is this how you would instil confidence in your choice for a mate?" he demanded.

Elrond opened his mouth to answer but Erestor beat him to it.

"We have not convened this assembly to test Legolas' integrity but to determine if he is exerting magical influence upon our Lord. The two issues are not the same and I put it to you that the silvan archer has more than proved his virtue through his unfailing service in the guard. If you need specific examples of his probity I am certain Glorfindel can provide them." The Chief Advisor's terse rebuke thoroughly demonstrated where his loyalty lay.

"Thank you, Lord Erestor," Elrond sent him a pleased smile which was acknowledged with a nod, their solidarity established beyond doubt.

"Very well. I reserve the right to question Lord Glorfindel upon the subject," groused the noble as he resumed his seat, his hopes and expectations shattered. He had erroneously assumed Erestor would back him in this effort to remove Legolas. A quick glance around proved that the other Lords were equally displeased and rather at a loss, for the seneschal of the Last Homely House was a potent adversary. Few would be bold enough to stand against him and Elrond together.

"Now then," Mithrandir at last began, "I understand that you are all fearful of Legolas because…"

"We are not fearful!" announced Badhor as he leaped to his feet. "We are justly concerned about this Wood Elf's purpose for being here."

"Aye, one Wood Elf is nothing to worry about; a host of them is quite another matter," agreed Fennas.

"No army has marched out of Mirkwood since the Last Alliance," Alphdal spoke up. "The Wood Elves are not a war-like race and in any case would never turn against their own kind. If you are looking for kinslayers, your search need go no further than your own ancestry."

That caused a flurry of raucous laughter at the aristocratic lord's expense and Erestor had to strike his bell for order.

"Thank you, Alphdal. As to Legolas' purpose for being here, it is not unlike that of every other resident of Imladris. Are we not all refugees, forced from our homes by wars and strife? Legolas was in need of healing and a safe haven," Elrond stated clearly and calmly though his displeasure was plain upon his face. "Never has anyone been turned away from my House or this valley."

"Nor shall that policy change, Valar willing," Mithrandir affirmed and took control anew. "Let us address the concerns you folk have regarding this particular refugee. Is it because he is silvan that you worry or because he is betrothed to Lord Elrond?"

"Both!" exclaimed Lord Fennas amid many concurring voices. "Having a silvan come here to live is nothing to me, but we all know the manner of his arrival was not usual. I was suspicious enough of the 'battle-field bond of last resort', but Lord Elrond assured us that it would fade as the injured Elf regained his health and vitality. Instead, the union is to be officially recognised. What does this mean for the safety of our lands? I concede the Wood Elves' lack of pluck and daring where open battle is concerned, but there are other ways to gain victory over one's foes. Does Legolas know of the power you guard, Elrond?"

The Lord of the Valley frowned, having just learned that his beloved mate did indeed possess such knowledge. He had no desire to reveal this yet could not hope to convince his people by resorting to falsehoods and deception. "He is aware that I am the Keeper of one of the Three. I must assume he also knows which of the Three I wield."

A loud commotion filled the air as everyone reacted at once, a turbulent mixture of distressed dismay and scoffing indifference.

"You told him this?"

"It is common knowledge among the First-born and even many mortals. What can it matter?"

"It is as we feared; with silvan wiles he gains our direst secrets."

"He doesn't need tricks for that, he could have found out by talking with any among the guards."

"What if he is a spy? Who can say what power the Elven King serves with Wraiths in his domain?"

"Did you tell him about the other Rings also?"

"I have heard enough; we must act to preserve our safety."

"Nay, the Wood Elves don't desire that sort of power. They have potent magic that serves them."

Erestor rang three chimes on his bell to silence the agitated hubbub. "We will have order," he insisted with fitting censure. "Lord Elrond, what say you to this?" Erestor was as surprised as the others and disappointed in his cousin, for he believed as the majority did, that Elrond had divulged a truth best kept hidden.

"I did not share my Burden with Legolas," announced Elrond. "He must have learned of it from the trees. As we trust them, we may rely upon him. He is loyal and true; Legolas is a citizen of our realm and would guard Imladris' secrets and her people with his life."

"No one can speak with trees; that is absolute nonsense," said Badhor the Advisor. "He does work magic and has placed an enchantment upon you, extracting this most sensitive information. What if he decides to place you in a deep slumber and steal the Ring for his homeland? Mirkwood is beset with evil and mayhap he was sent here to secure it as a weapon."

"Badhor, you always talk more than you listen and speak before considering," retorted Aegas Mírdan. "Legolas, and every silvan Elf, does communicate with trees and just about every kind of creature in nature, great or small. The folk of Lothlorien have this gift as well, though they do not discuss it openly, probably because they weary of ignorant responses such as yours."

"How could you possibly know that?" demanded Fennas in sneering contempt. "Did he give you a personal demonstration?" His scoffing disrespect elicited a scatter of smug laughter among the upper echelons of Imladrian society.

"As a matter of fact, he did," countered the jewel-smith. "He informed me that the reason my grapes were so sour and small was because of the waste buried beneath the land. My house occupies the spot where the old tannery was until the people petitioned to have it removed to the southern borders due to the unpleasant smell. I asked him how he knew all that, for it was centuries ago, and he said my old maple tree complained about the foul sludge still poisoning the ground beneath its roots."

"That proves nothing; Elrond probably told him about the tannery," snapped Badhor.

"Nay, I did not. Why would the tannery's location even come up?" retorted Elrond. "Unless you wish to call me a liar to my face, I suggest you concede that silvan Elves have the ability to converse with green life." As expected, the Advisor was not prepared to do any such thing. The Lord of the vale smirked. "Furthermore, had he any designs upon the Ring, Legolas would have acted on them before now. The fact is, he does not care about it and Aran Thranduil distrusts its power. The Elven King would not have it in his lands much less upon his person."

"Let us leave the King of the Woodland Realm outside this discussion for now," enjoined Mithrandir, "for it is Legolas who is in your midst. I am happy to confirm Elrond's claim regarding silvan affinity for speech with lesser creations of Yavanna. I am even more pleased to emphatically denounce either propensity or skill in sorcery. Only the Istari can work spells and command the will of others. Do not confuse their canny wood craft with unwholesome chicanery. The silvan folk of Greenwood are honourable people and you would have to search diligently to find Elves more committed to the defence of Arda and the subjugation of evil."

The wizard's strong declaration of support left the Noldorin nobles and the disgruntled livestock breeders speechless. While they were uncomfortable disputing an emissary from Aman, a disciple of Manwë, and a Keeper of one of the Three, they were not ready to accept the lowly warrior as a fitting mate for their Lord. They murmured in grumbling discontent as they tried to think of another charge to level upon the Wood Elf.

"I cannot comprehend why you must wed him formally," complained Fennas. "Let things remain as they are; I've no objection to you keeping a consort, even a male one. If that's not good enough for him, let the Wood Elf return to his people. Even after the Last Alliance those few silvan folk who sheltered here to cure their hurts left as soon as they were able. They prefer their dark and gloomy world beneath the trees, so why is Legolas still here?"

"We have already established that," said Alphdal in exasperation. "Have you not denounced the bond between them? Surely that is what holds Legolas here, so far from all he knows and loves."

"That is true and and yet not completely accurate. The reality is plain as the sunrise for any who wish to see," announced Glorfindel, smiling as he surveyed the collected Elves. They were going to be so completely shocked when they learned of the babe and he was not above being amused by the thought. "Legolas is deeply in love with Elrond."

"Aye, it has been so almost from the beginning. I recall how Legolas could not bear to be parted from Elrond during his stay in the healing wards, for I had need of stitching for a small wound and saw them there," added Aegas. "I will never forget the young Elf's terror and despair, nor the comfort and care Lord Elrond lavished upon him. Forgive me for saying it, Hiren, but I believed you would even use Vilya to spare him, so strong was the connection between you."

"I did not realise the strength of his feelings was obvious to others, for I had so effectively hidden the truth from myself," Elrond sent his friend a nod. "Nor was your thought inaccurate. I did use the Ring to aid him then and will not hesitate to do so in the future should it ever come to that." A collective gasp arose at this admission but before any of the nobles could pounce upon this opportunity to cry fault, Elrond stood and continued. "This should not surprise anyone, for I have done so in the past for many, including Celebrian and numerous Elves you folk hold dear to your hearts. Your nephew, Fennas, only survived his run in with wargs due to the Ring's gift. I am a healer and decided long ago that the power of Vilya was given into my hands primarily for that purpose." He paused, noting how many of his loyal citizens were nodding in assent, and smiled.

"Beyond that, I am pleased and very proud to confirm Glorfindel's statement." He met the speculative scrutiny trained upon him with calm and open honesty. It was safe to say he had seldom endured such complete and total deliberation from his subjects. "For whatever reason, Legolas loves me. I am equally overjoyed to announce that I feel exactly the same toward him. Can it be so difficult to imagine that I would give my heart and soul to him? Would I wish to wed him otherwise?"

"Yet you did not wed him for all this time," Badhor pointed out. "You were most adamant in telling us, repeatedly, that the bond between you was created solely out of dire necessity. I understood your desire to keep a young and attractive lover, yet believed you would eventually tire of him and send him away. So Erestor assured me numerous times. Now you talk of love and a devotion so profound you would risk the disfavour of the Valar by spurning your lawful marriage to Celebrian."

"Aye, and what do the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood think of that? Surely they will be offended for their beloved daughter to be so cruelly slighted," added Fennas. "Is it wise to incur their displeasure? Lorien is our strongest ally."

"Let us leave the Lady of Imladris outside this hearing also," insisted Elrond grimly. He had no wish to bring up any of his history with her or reveal her long-standing affair with another Elf.

"Forgive me, cousin, but I fear we must answer this concern," said Erestor as gently as he was able. "Everyone knows she has departed these shores, never to return. Few understand that she dissolved her bond with you upon so doing."

A hushed exclamation of dismay chased around the area and many heads bent close to whisper of their shock and disbelief. The Chief Advisor tapped his bell twice.

"My kinsman speaks the truth," said Elrond sadly. "Our marriage was a trial for her and it is to her credit that so few of you good people suspected. I do not fault her and she forgave my shortcomings long ago. It is in the past and our lives will not intersect in the future."

"What of your sons? Elladan and Elrohir have not hidden their disgust over their naneth's replacement. Your Chief Advisor repeatedly refers to your chosen mate in terms best reserved for those among the mortals who sell their chastity for coin," argued Badhor. "This is the Elf you claim to love? Only magic could make you say such a thing."

At that everyone decided to add their opinions and the folk in the gallery were boisterous in their desire to be heard. The cacophony of competing shouts, both for and against Legolas, rendered most of the comments into nothing more than a jumbled thunder of strife and dissension. It was impossible to tell whether the majority had shifted to back Elrond and his chosen mate or not. Mithrandir thumped his long staff hard upon the ground to gain everyone's attention. Erestor stood up and clanged his bell unceasingly until they all grew quiet and resumed their seats, for many had arisen in hopes of making their statements more forceful.

"This is intolerable! I will close this hearing and clear the hall if there is another such outburst!" he chastised them coldly and none could hold his angry glower for more than a few seconds. "You called Mithrandir back from Gondor to hear his evaluation and judgement; now you refuse to heed his advice?"

"I am thoroughly disappointed in your lack of trust in my counsel," boomed Mithrandir. "These superstitious postulations sound like tales the mortals invent to explain what is beyond their knowledge. What ails you lot? Are you truly so lacking in common sense? I will not answer a single one of these irrational indictments." His tirade shamed them, for none of the Elves were pleased to be likened to ignorant dwarves and humans.

"There is a logical, natural explanation for all your concerns but I will not detail them," Elrond said. "Instead, I will speak of my failings and explain my poor conduct, for thus has it been. My treatment of Legolas is inexcusable and has in turn inspired your unwarranted antagonism and scorn; indeed, it shames me to admit I held a similar opinion at first. He has done nothing to merit this disdain. I am to blame for the crude, lewd jokes at his expense. I am at fault for not prohibiting the nearly constant attempts at seduction, the disgusting propositions, and the openly lustful ogling he has endured.

"Aye, I am the one lacking in honour and dignity, not Legolas. He has been true to me through it all and not once complained of his predicament. None of you thought to wonder why and again I must accept my own culpability in regarding him as little better than a slave to the bond we share. So it is deemed among his people. Should a union such as ours fail to be formally recognised, it is the gravest insult one can give to the individual so bound and his or her entire lineage. It means the other party, meaning myself, considers the family beneath him, so lacking in character that he would never consider linking with them through marriage."

Silence followed his speech and the expressions on the nobles' faces indicated confusion and uneasiness, for this was exactly what they believed. They did not consider Legolas' family prestigious enough to join formally to the noble House of Eärendil, a heritage that included the very highest representatives of Elves, Men, and Maiar.

"I see it in your eyes," nodded Elrond. "The truth is, I did think as you do now. Even when I knew I loved him, knew that he had become everything to me, even then I would not consider making him my legal and rightful spouse for fear of the expressions of disgusted disappointment I observe upon your patrician features. It wasn't until the cinnamon poisoning that I perceived my stupidity, my madness. He might have died and a precious gift, the most precious gift of all, might have died with him.

"I realised that if I lost him, I would not survive the grief. When he did not perish, he was ready to leave Imladris and sail for Aman, for he believed I did not love him, not truly, and would not protect him. I cannot lose him; I will not permit him to go from me. Let it be known: if this hearing fails to endorse our union then I will step down as Lord of the realm and cross the sea with him."

A low murmuring susurration of surprise flowed through the gathered Elves but they fell silent at once when Erestor sounded a single, soft chime. All eyes fixed attentively upon the Elven Lord, yet Erestor's was the voice they heard next. Now through all this the seneschal had held back, waiting for the right moment to intervene, and now he was compelled by his cousin's open declaration to speak up and admit his own guilt. He took a deep breath and rose from his chair.

"Though I never deemed him a threat of any kind, I once viewed Legolas as an opportunist seeking only to improve his lot in life. I am no longer of that opinion. Everyone present has heard my ribald stories and demeaning remarks; let it be known that Legolas did nothing to incite them. To my utter shame, I realised my unseemly coveting of my kinsman's mate lay at the root of all my ugly words. I understand now; his heart is unconditionally committed to Elrond. I believe he would protect our Lord with his very life if such was required," averred the seneschal quietly, "and I know Elrond is utterly serious in his intent to retain Legolas' heart and soul within his."

"Muindor, your acceptance may be late but I am truly grateful for it," said Elrond, happy to ignore the past in light of this absolute endorsement.

"Please elaborate on this, Erestor," encouraged the wizard, not at all uncomfortable discussing the scandalous behaviour of Imladris' most notable Elves. "If you no longer experience this overwhelming lust, what do you feel toward Legolas?" Again a short silence ensued as the seneschal considered this.

"I have the strong desire to see him at peace, a compelling urge to protect him," came Erestor's pensive answer, for he was puzzled by the vehemence of these emotions, or rather, by the utter abrogation of views he had maintained for more than a decade. "It is similar to what I felt when Celebrian was expecting, yet this is far more intense."

"Thank you," said Elrond.

Before anyone else could comment, Mithrandir moved things along, for this was all to his purpose. He addressed the Balrog-slayer. "Glorfindel, you were once so opposed to Legolas' presence that you went behind Elrond's back and summoned the twins to chase him off. What is your outlook now?"

All eyes honed in on the intrepid warrior, who rose slowly to his feet, casting a fleeting glance at Elrond.

"I am Legolas' staunchest ally," he said firmly. "Whatever resentment I harboured was caused by my respect for Celebrian and my sympathy for Elladan and Elrohir, who were so vehemently opposed to the unexpected bond. In truth, Legolas is among my best warriors and I will sorely miss his presence on patrol.

"I, too, harbour regret for my mistreatment of the silvan archer. I routinely dismissed his diligent efforts to guard our borders and permitted my troops to ridicule his method of fighting from the branches overhead. I am ashamed to say we named him cowardly and I have heard more than one soldier accuse him of deserting his brother's company on the day of the Orc attack. None of that is true.

"If I described his skill as bloodthirsty then so must I name the twins. Legolas abhors the foul creatures of the world for similar reasons: because of them he has lost his brother and been torn from his home and family. With such an incentive, who would not feel the need to rid the lands of such evil?" He paused briefly and sent Elrond another surreptitious look. "Let me add that I have never felt any type of desire or attraction for the Wood Elf. I am happily involved with someone and have been for many years."

"When did you arrive at this altered outlook?" asked Erestor, his curiosity piqued. He'd wondered what had caused the abrupt reversal of the Balrog-slayer's attitude but hadn't been able to get the Vanyarin warrior to tell.

"I would rather not say," Glorfindel hedged, going decidedly pink around the ears.

"Ah, why is that?" Badhor pounced. "You have been enchanted, Glorfindel."

"Nay!"

"Then tell us what happened!" Fennas demanded.

"It might be best," sighed Elrond.

"Indeed. Glorfindel, if you don't explain it will only leave doubt in everyone's mind," added Mithrandir.

The reborn warrior looked around at the faces and sighed heavily. This was not the proper place or time for such admissions, yet he could see there was no alternative that wouldn't leave Legolas under suspicion. "You must first understand; it was entirely accidental." The Balrog-slayer addressed Elrond directly. "I was going to fetch you for the evening report and, well, you were already otherwise engaged. With Legolas."

Elrond stifled a groan and covered his eyes, unable to meet the wary gaze of his Master-at-Arms for a moment, wishing he could flee from the staring, glittering eyes and leering, whispering mouths surrounding him. Never had he been so glad for Legolas to be far from his home and sincerely hoped the archer was well beyond the range of detecting this particular part of the hearing. Then he steeled himself and lowered his hand, resigned to knowing the whole truth. "How much exactly did you accidentally observe?"

"Umm, ah, you know." The Vanyarin warrior motioned with his hands, managing to make the vague movements explicitly risqué, his fair cheeks, already tinted with blossoming colour quickly acquiring a hue that matched his ruby lips. "It was actually quite beautiful and touching," he insisted, anger flaring as numerous giggles erupted around the place.

"Oh, Glorfindel," scolded Erestor reprovingly, shaking his head while a huge grin overtook his features.

"Tut-tut, it's not like we are children. It was bound to happen, given Legolas' preference for the outdoors," placated Mithrandir. He could tell this was not very reassuring news for the Lord of Imladris.

"How is this possible if not through enchantment?" spat Badhor, not impressed by what he considered proof of Legolas' loose, or rather absent, morals. He refrained from alluding to enchantment again, but everyone knew he was thinking it for they were, too. "I can't understand how watching that made their perspectives alter so quickly and completely."

"This is precisely what I expected to happen, Badhor," proclaimed Mithrandir, not a bit perturbed.

"How could you know?" demanded the Balrog-slayer. "You were no where near the valley when this occurred."

"Didn't need to be; Celeborn explained it to me. Sylvan folk are remarkable!" he enthused.

Elrond startled. "Celeborn knows of Legolas?"

"Of course, mellon. Did you believe your sons would fail to reveal this unusual bond of yours to their grandparents?"

The Elven Lord studied his feet in sheepish chagrin, for that was exactly what he'd preferred to think and since neither Celeborn nor Galadriel had brought it up, he'd gone on believing they didn't know. Of course they had to be aware; if his sons hadn't told one of these oh so discreet nobles surely would have.

The Lord of the Vale looked over the faces he knew so well. Here were people he'd fought beside in times of war, people he'd trusted to stand firm beside him through whatever fate might befall their community, be it beneficial or detrimental. Yet now they defied his authority and refuted his right to claim for his own the one Elf in all the world who made him happy and whole. Elrond was disappointed and hurt and unwilling to use Legolas' pregnancy as a means to gain their approval, though it was clear this was the direction Mithrandir was taking. He sighed, trying to see a means to compromise and salvage the situation, for such was Aearen's wish. He decided that was the place to start.

"I will address Badhor's question only because Legolas wishes me to make peace with you. Personally, I no longer care very much what your opinion may be, good or ill. I have already said it: If it is best to step aside and allow my sons to rule, or even some other Elf you may wish to choose, so be it. Let me assure you, before it is brought up, that the Ring placed in my trust shall remain hidden here, whatever your decision may be, so that your lives may be ever blessed and peaceful. Legolas does not care about Vilya or have any desire to manipulate its power.

"If that is your decision, I will miss this place, yet neither Legolas nor I will miss the strife and discord you have generated. Indeed, I refuse to tolerate such treatment toward the one who holds my heart, one who has granted me the greatest gift of all. Considering Galadriel's gift of foresight, I am fairly sure the Lord and Lady have known of this gift from the beginning. It is this: my sylvan mate is with child. Legolas will bring forth new life, my fourth elfling, a blessing unexpected and undeserved.

"Before anyone dares call my issue illegitimate, let me remind you that Legolas and I are already husband and spouse in the sight of Eru. We have been bound in all ways for over ten years. The formal ceremony is necessary for his honour and for mine, but I will not permit any disgrace to touch my babe. He and Legolas are my first priority now and above all else Legolas needs to feel safe and secure. If that means we sail, so be it."

Needless to say, his remarks caused an uproar and more banging of the staff and clanging of the bell was required as all the nobles scoffed and disputed against this unlikely revelation, Erestor and Glorfindel upheld their Lord's statement, and the wizard called repeatedly for order. When it finally grew quiet enough to hear anything distinctly, the response was just as one might expect.

"Impossible, he's male." Fennas announced.

"And if it is true, then it can only be magic," added Badhor, still convinced the silvan had enchanted the mighty Elven Lord. "Any child bred in such a manner must be the spawn of evil intent."

"Silence!" the Istar shouted in his most imperious voice, reminding them that he was no mere old man but one among the Blessed. "If I hear one more reference to dark magic I will give the one who makes it a fitting example of spells and enchantments! Do you dare call Elrond's nascent elfling evil? I would banish you from the realm were it in my authority to do so!"

"Nay, mellon, do not forego your oathes to your order on my account," Elrond smiled sadly and laid a restraining hand upon the wizard's arm. "They know nothing of Wood Elves; how could they? Even I was unaware of this unique physical trait. Is our ignorance any wonder, considering that I have never attempted to develop an alliance their King? We went to them only when need was great and then forgot them and the price their people paid for the good of all."

"True. Very well, if they will not take my word for it, or yours, perhaps the words of Celeborn the Wise will convince them, for he is aware of this trouble and sent me this letter." Mithrandir produced the missive with a flourish and all were duly impressed. Not even Elrond had known of this evidence and his shock was apparent.

"Well, what did he tell you?" asked Erestor impatiently.

"It's quite simple, really. Wood Elves who are with child, whether male or female, produce a unique chemical signal similar to scent yet not consciously detectable to others. These aromatic communications reach everyone within the subconscious range of elven olfactory perception and prompt a fittingly protective response. It is a necessary instinct, given the dangerous world they inhabit and their diminished numbers after the Last Alliance, and serves to safeguard both parent and unborn child, thus ensuring survival of another generation. Celeborn, being in closer contact with Thranduil, his kinsman by blood, knows of the unusual trait."

"So it is magic after all," said Erestor quietly.

"No, not as is commonly envisioned; Legolas is no sorcerer. It is simply his nature to function this way," corrected Mithrandir, spearing the unfortunate Badhor with his icy glare.

A subdued and uneasy quiet settled over the assembly as the Noldorin folk attempted to assimilate this bizarre news. It was painfully obvious how conflicted they were. On the one hand, a pregnant male was something of a freak and many thought Legolas had deliberately used this unknown capability to ensnare their Lord and secure his future. On the other, none wished to condemn an innocent babe to the shame of being fatherless and only a few truly wanted their Lord unseated. It was clear enough that Elrond would desert his prestigious position, all his power, and his loyal subjects rather than renounce his paternity or give up his mate.

"Why didn't you tell us about the elfling?" asked Aegas.

"Aye, most of the people here would not want to cause any distress to a…someone with child," added Alphdal.

Elrond's lips parted in preparation of replying, but instead a loud shout issued forth and he leaped back from the table, his face a mask of panicked terror. He swayed, overcome for a moment, and the wizard grabbed at his arm. Before anyone could think to stop him, he yanked free and bolted.

"Aearen!" he shouted in frantic trepidation, the hearing and its outcome forgotten.

"Elrond, what is amiss?" demanded Glorfindel, racing close behind as all the Lords and Advisors stood and stared, babbling in confusion.

"He calls me; he is in despair!" cried the panic-stricken husband and father as he shoved his way through the crowd and ran for the trees.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Elrond to the Rescue! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Never had the younger son of Eärendil been so thoroughly terrified, not when his naneth deserted him and he was taken captive by the Noldorin kinslayers, not when he learned that Elros had chosen the Gift of Men, not even when he faced the Dark Lord before the gates of Mordor. He could not think or reason or formulate plans; he could only run with every ounce of strength and speed with which the First-born are endowed, his heart racing more from the fear of what horror was befalling his young mate and their unborn elfling. Orcs? Wargs? Trolls? Unscrupulous Men? Such enemies were unknown in Imladris, but he could not gather enough thought to counter the wrenching visions of violence peopled with these representatives of evil. He must reach Legolas in time; he could not let his beloved Aearen and their wee babe perish.

Blessed Eru! After all he's been through, how can you permit this? Preserve him from harm and spare our child; I beg you!

No more could he manage for the silent call from Legolas' soul was fraught with anguish and anger and hopeless desolation. Elrond thought he would go mad and truly did not realise he was shouting Legolas' name over and over, peppered with exhortations to hold fast, that he was almost there, that he would make it right and all would be well. He did not hear his sobbing voice pleading with Aearen not to die but to fight and live. He did not notice the reckless way he plowed through the fine hedges and flower beds, trampling fields of newly sprouted crops, crashing through whatever obstacle presented itself on the straightest, swiftest path to his beloved.

Nor did he notice that Glorfindel was following, dagger in hand for he never brought a sword to Council. Elrond was oblivious to Mithrandir puffing and blowing in his wake, grey beard flowing and robes held up around his knobby knees to aid his progress. Erestor was rapidly gaining on Glorfindel and a handful of the Lords and Advisors and common folk were pounding over the grounds behind him. The elegance for which the estate was known far and wide was quickly being rendered a catastrophic mess of squashed plants, churned turf, overturned lawn furniture, and broken fences. It wasn't until the untamed woods were reached that some of the throng gave up the chase, unwilling to confront brambles and thickets and whatever danger had provoked their Lord's unforeseen retreat from the hearing.

Thankfully, Legolas had not gone far from the Last Homely House, for since the conception he found he needed to be close to his mate. He was in a small clearing about a league downstream from Lanthir Fân where the brook was broad and slow, meandering with many turns across the fertile land. Here and there, the stream has altered course and left behind small bows of lakes surrounded by fine, blue clay. It was at one of these clay bogs that the Wood Elf was located.

Once close enough to actually hear the distraught and tearful noise issuing from his beloved, Elrond's speed verily doubled. He could catch a glimpse of Legolas pacing too and fro, occasionally bending to heft and throw objects from the ground, no doubt hoping to deter whatever danger threatened him. The Lord of Imladris gave a blood-curdling war cry and burst through the thinning trees, ready to wring the life from whatever creature dared to enter into his lands and try to hurt his family. Frantically his eyes scanned the scene but there was no one there except Aearen, who promptly threw himself upon his betrothed husband and clung tight, his distraught words too distorted by his hysterical state to be intelligible.

"Legolas! Legolas, are you well? What has happened? Can you speak, beloved?" entreated Elrond, quickly and carefully exploring the trembling body with shaking hands. His heart leaped in his chest for Aearen was wet and sticky and he feared the worst, yet the silvan did not flinch or cry out in pain. Confused and warily hopeful, Elrond pried the strangling arms from around his neck and gently held Legolas out far enough to get a good look at him.

The Wood Elf was a complete mess. His hair was a wet, tangled mass of knots; clothes were soaked and caked with clumps of clay. The mud coated his face and hands as well and his bare feet were literally blue from the sticky stuff. His face was streaked with tears as the fluid ran down from his wide and sorrowful blue eyes, his distress enhanced by the fact that he was striving to control it by biting down on his quivering lower lip. The miserable whimpers escaped nonetheless and his whole body jolted with the jarring sobs. For all that, there was no blood, no bruises, no wounds of any kind.

"Oh, Nín'ódhel, everything's ruined!" he choked out and collapsed against Elrond's chest as he gave up the effort to be strong and let the sorrow engulf his troubled heart.

"Ai! Legolas, what happened? What do you mean? Is the babe well? Are you hurt?" Elrond hugged him close and slowly rocked the wailing Elf, glancing around the clearing for clues to the mystery. The notion of poison entered his mind and chilled his spirit.

"No, I'm not hurt," Legolas managed to say. "Tinu Mín is fine, too, but what does it matter? How can I take care of this child? I can't even do the simplest thing! I ruined every one and no matter how hard I try I can't get it right. What am I going to do? We must have the pots ready!" Fresh bawling silenced further explanations as he buried his face beneath Elrond's chin and clutched even tighter to the Elven Lord's robes.

"Pots?" Elrond's brows rose to his hairline. Making ceramic pots was Legolas' most recent project, but so virulent a reaction to lack of success in this endeavour was completely our of proportion. The only conclusion was the imbalance in the silvan's body caused by the progressing gestation. This realisation sent a deluge of relief, sympathy, and love coursing through the noble Lord's blood and he smiled as he kissed the clay-clotted tresses. Once more the patient husband held his mate away in order to peer into the utterly disconsolate visage. "Beloved, I thought something terrible was happening to you. I thought you were being attacked! This is about clay pots?"

"Aye. I wanted to do it myself, but they're all ruined!"

Fresh tears threatened so Elrond drew Legolas close anew and shushed him softly, giddy with happiness to know there was no danger, no threat, no enemy lurking in the brush. He surveyed the area and noticed the overturned potter's wheel, a smoking kiln with its door agape wherein could just be spied a cracked urn, a shapeless mound of wet clay in a bucket, and numerous shattered examples of the Wood Elf's efforts to create jars of various shapes and sizes. Aearen's emotions had swept through the clearing with the fury of a hurricane.

"There now, there now. It doesn't matter if this batch is ruined; we can make more," he soothed. "Why is it so vital to make the pots yourself? There is an artisan in the city who can make whatever we require."

"I'm the life-bearer!" exclaimed Legolas as if that was the answer to everything. He lifted anguished eyes to meet Elrond's and could see the confusion on his beloved's face. With a groan he dropping his head against the sturdy Noldorin shoulder. "Of course you don't know."

"Then tell me, Aearen; I want to learn," coaxed Elrond, lifting the drooping face and wiping away a few teary smears. He sent his mate an encouraging smile.

"It's the custom among my people. A life-bearer has to be able to supply for the needs of himself and the child for the final stage of pregnancy and the first three months of life beyond the birth. I need the pots to store fruit and grain and water and other things."

"Yes, I understand but I am here, too. I will provide for you and the child," reminded Elrond, stooping to lightly kiss the clay coated lips.

"Nay, that's not the point." Legolas felt calmer now with Elrond's arms around him. Perhaps the pots could be mended. "What if something happens to you? I have to be able to keep our babe safe. I can't do that if I have no stores set aside, for I won't be able to hunt or forage during that time."

"Dear One, nothing is going to happen to me," assured Elrond. "Even should some tragedy happen, your family is coming here to help you and my family would never let you or our child go hungry."

"Oh Valar! I must have the pots made before they get here!" Legolas was becoming frantic again and tried to twist out of Elrond's grasp. "What am I to do? I can't make them; every one of them has cracked in the kiln!"

"Nay, do not become overwrought. We will solve this, Aearen. It is still some time before your kin arrive; surely we can manage to bake some jars before then."

"No, it's hopeless! There was a messenger bird this morning; they are four day's march from the ford. I wanted to prove to them, to prove to you that I will be a suitable life-bearer."

"Four days? Are you certain?" Elrond once more examined Legolas at arm's length. He was almost ready to panic himself until he saw how upset Aearen was. Logically, he should be glad for his people to arrive and had previously spoken of the event with much happiness. "Why are you so worried?"

"They will say I am not fit to bear life if I can't even make pots for preserving food," Legolas wailed, casting himself against his husband's chest, mortified to reveal his failure in domestic pursuits. "It is a family joke: the only thing I am good at is killing. I used to laugh and tell them to be glad of it for I am the best archer our House has ever produced, but it's not funny now."

"Oh, Aearen," sighed Elrond, trying hard to subdue his mirth. It wasn't really the humour of it so much as the exceeding gratitude he felt to learn that this was the main concern troubling his beloved. "They will not say anything unkind. They will just be happy to see you well and learn of the child you bear. Besides, we needn't tell them you didn't make the pots."

"They will know."

"I can help," spoke a voice behind them and the lovers jumped in surprise for they hadn't noticed the small crowd that had filtered into the clearing, lead by Glorfindel, Mithrandir, and Erestor. It was none of these who had spoken, however, but one of the folk of the city. He took a step forward, smiling kindly as he nodded to Elrond, who of course recognised him.

"Celeg'waew, I did not know you were here," said Elrond, tightening his encircling arms protectively around his distraught mate. He sent a questioning glance to the wizard, his kinsman, and the Balrog-slayer, but they only grinned back, expressions evocative of warm and compassionate joy suffusing their comely faces.

"Aye, Hiren, I could not help but follow, for your need seemed great. As it is, I have the answer to your dilemma, Legolas," the Elf addressed the Wood Elf directly, amused to see the tear bright eyes peek out in undeniable curiosity from beneath the mass of unruly, clay-matted golden hair. It was quite obvious that the young silvan had thrown quite the tantrum in his anxious despair over failing to master the art of throwing pots. "I am a master potter, the head of my Guild. I would be glad to take on a new apprentice. It takes many years to excel in this craft, yet I am convinced that you will be an adept and attentive pupil. I will help you make at least a few simple kinds of jars before your family arrives."

Legolas' straightened up and turned to Elrond to view his reaction, finding the Lord's calm, commanding demeanour reassuring. It was obvious he trusted this offer of assistance and thus Legolas was prepared to accept the offer as guileless and the appearance of good will as genuine. He faced the Master Potter again, bestowing that beatific smile that so utterly enthralled all fortunate enough to fall under its radiant purity.

"My thanks, Hiren," he said quietly, a polite dip of his head underscoring his deference. "I will work very hard to learn your the skill."

"I've no doubt you will make us all proud," laughed the potter with a shake of his head and a twinkling wink at Elrond. "I am not lord, however,so you need not address me with such formality. Celeg'waew will do."

"So be it," nodded Legolas happily, all tears dried and every hint of sorrow banished from his heart. "You may call me Legolas, then," he added, and if he noticed the amused grins and chuckles his tone of autocratic condescension elicited from the surrounding elves, he pretended not to.

TBC

~ ~  Glossary  ~ ~

Fennas: Doorway

Badhor: Judge

Celeg'waew: Swift Wind

Dor Eden Cuil: Place of New Life


Ceryn o Cabor: frog's balls

Tinu Mín: our little star

maethor nín: my warrior

Pen Vallen: Golden One

NOTE: Ah, this entire sequence has been fighting me so hard! Still the culmination of this scene is not here, but this is a good place to stop. Sorry to keep dangling Thranduil's arrival, but this situation with the citizens needed to be addressed and at least partially dealt with. As you probably noticed, there was no vote! Legolas' temper tantrum put a halt to the proceedings quite soundly. Now, the next chapter will just leap over those intervening four days and permit us to FINALLY get to the good stuff. We'll find out if the people voted for or against the marriage. Oh, and there's a torrid sex scene involving the removal of all that clay from Legolas' body. I will let you know when it posts because it will probably end up in the Missing Scenes. Don't go looking now, it isn't done yet.

I hope you can see that the pregnancy is starting to have more noticeable effects on Legolas. It should also be noted that maybe he has felt rather insecure about the idea of being a male life-bearer. He is very young, remember, and has never personally known a male elf who gave birth, though he knows of males who have done so in the past. There are probably other things about facing his family that have his nerves on edge, too. And,let me say now that, although both Legolas and Elrond refer to their unborn babe as Tinu Mín: (Our Little Star), this is only a pet name and they will choose a more appropriate name for the child once he's born. It will not start with 'El'.

Finally, thanks to one and all still reading and enjoying the story!

© 02/26/2008 Ellen Robey