Revelations

Special thank you to my wonderful beta, Jamie.

Chapter 2

The Prancing Pony Inn was busy as usual with the bustling of folks that came in for food and drink. Barliman Butterbur, who was the proprietor of the inn that was well known for its beer, busied himself back and forth from the kitchen to the front desk. But he was not so occupied to where he was left unaware of those that came into the inn. Just a week ago, his keen eyes saw the hooded strange fellow that came in. It was Gabbie that served the stranger as well as herself a drink. Barliman guessed it to be beer from the way Gabbie was carrying on babbling and laughing loudly.

Luckily for her, the gentleman must have asked for her company, Barliman thought, but yet he said nothing up until he had a feeling of deja vu as if he had already witnessed this episode before, but with . . . “Olora,” he whispered.

He frowned, troubled about Olora and now Gabbie. He wondered how Olora fared in Imladris, but first there was something he needed to take care of so he requested that Gabbie join him in the kitchen for a talk.

Now they were sitting in the kitchen, Barliman having sent the cook to tend to the customers. He had a cup of coffee, while Gabbie had a mug of beer. He watched her closely before speaking, choosing his words carefully.

“Gabbie, I called you in here to talk to you about something that is of grave importance to me.” His expression was serious, differing greatly from the friendly smile that usually adorned his face.

Gabbie frowned slightly before sipping her beer. “What is it Mr. Butterbur?” She asked.

Never the one to beat around the bush, Barliman got right to the point of the matter concerning the stranger. “A week ago, a stranger that was clad in a dark cloak came in here. In fact, as I recall, he was the very one that you served and kept company with. Who was he and what did he seek?”

It did not take long for Gabbie who loved to gossip idly to share tidings of the juicy conversation that she had with . . . “Findecano,” she informed him. “As a matter of fact, he said that he had been here before . . . approximately one year ago.”

“Is that so?” Barliman raised a furry brow.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I thought it strange because at that time I worked in the back office as record keeper, remember?” She said, watching him closely with wide-eyes.

He smiled slightly. “Of course I remember,” he sighed.

“Anyway,” she continued, “after he left, telling me that he had to run an errand for his lordship.” A pause as her fingers lightly fiddled with the tablecloth. “I just thought it strange for him to have just arrived and then have to turn around only to leave without rest, so I took it upon myself to look through last year’s record book. It took me awhile to find out that his name does not appear in the book as a guest that stayed here,” she said, biting her bottom lip.

Barliman frowned at this tad bit of news and thought best to keep it stored in his memory, which sometimes tend to fail him; if only he could remember to keep the important information advisable in mind. He had a feeling that he would need to pass this knowledge along to lord Elrond and he told Gabbie to make sure that she took note of this to inform the lord of the Homely House. “This . . . Findecano . . . what was it that he sought?”

“Oh right,” she replied quickly. “He wanted to know about Olora and how she fared. I told him that she had gotten herself sick and went to Imaldris to heal. I even asked him how did he know about her and which he said that he was an old friend of the family.”

“And then what?” Barliman asked.

Gabbie shrugged. “Then I suppose we flirted and then the conversation went back to Olora. She must be something special for Findecano to take interest in her after all these years. He even mentioned that they were childhood friends.” Barliman detected bitterness in Gabbie’s voice. Could it be that she was jealous? He shook his head at the thought for it was not about Gabbie, but Olora and the secret that he knew about her that was told by her mother before she died.

Barliman bit his bottom lip thoughtfully. A childhood friend? Olora came to live in Bree at the age of two along with her mother. Growing up she was a loner, never having friends to play with or talk to. She was a quiet, shy child who preferred solitude to the raucous concourse of bustling Bree folk so having a friend during her childhood was false, Barliman narrowed his eyes as he continued to listen to Gabbie’s rambling.

“Listen Gabbie,” he interrupted. “Not a word to anyone about this conversation, is that clear?”

One look into the stern face of Barliman, Gabbie knew that their discussion would go no farther. “Yes, Mr. Butterbur,” she stuttered.

Barliman eyed her large jug of beer warily. “I suggest you tinker down a bit on that ale,” he advised and then arose from his seat to attend to his customers. Once he was out of Gabbie’s sight, she quickly drained the beer in one gulp and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

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He sat in a big chair with the high back and wings in the spacious royal guestroom with a goblet of Elven wine in his hand, listening to the soft music playing around the Homely House. The blond-haired monarch rarely left his realm, but due to unfortunate circumstances that the war brought it left him no other alternative, but to venture out.

He sighed deeply, knowing that it was not just an adventure. He was here for a specific purpose; Sauron’s army had caused great ruin and set the woods on fire, but nevertheless, the Elven King and his people defeated them, cleansing the forest of evil. Now, he was here occupying Rivendall as his temporary home until he met with Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien to rename the forest in the upcoming month.


But, there was also another reason he was here and that was for a little respite, he squinted his blue eyes and curled his cupid bow lips into a smirk. Before he could continue his inner musings, a knock sounded at the door and he bid to whomever to enter.

“Mae govannen, adar,” a smooth voice said.

“Ion,” the monarch nodded his head in greeting as he swirled his goblet and then took a sip of the sweet wine.

“Erestor told me that you had arrived. I trust that your trip was pleasant,” the young Elf said taking a seat across from his father.

“Ah, yes,” his father replied with a smile. “It was very pleasant indeed, Legolas. Thank you for asking.” a pause and then, “so tell me, my son, what news do you have since we have been apart?” Thranduil inquired.

“Well, a lot has happened,” Legolas narrowed his eyes and then poured himself a drink. “Lindir has found himself a beautiful maiden from Bree.” At this news, Thranduil arched an elegant brow.

“Really? Do tell,” he said in surprise. He had known the Minstrel, Lindir, to dally with other maidens from time to time and was astonished, to say the least, that the Elf was now courting a fair maiden.

Legolas smiled handsomely with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Sorry, ada . I cannot divulge that sort of information,” he drawled.

Thranduil smirked wickedly, watching his son. “You cannot or you will not?” he demanded. Legolas raised a brow. “It’s both. I swore Lindir to secrecy and besides, he trusts me over the twins of Elrond.”

Thranduil chuckled and raised his goblet in salute to his son. “Well done, Legolas,” he said proudly. “I am glad that you are a worthy confidant.”

“I could not have done it without you, ada,” Legolas said softly. His father had taught him the Elven history, traditions, beliefs and culture, but most importantly the value of loyalty for without it, love, trust and friendship cannot exist. Thranduil responded with a wink and then sipped his wine.

Legolas drained his goblet and then stood up to dismiss himself. “Since you care to know more details,” he said lazily, “perhaps you should meet the beautiful maiden yourself at the evening meal.”
Thranduil slowly gazed over his son’s face that was so similar to his own and narrowed his eyes slightly. He gave a low grunt in assent. “Perhaps,” he said slowly and then closed his eyes listening to the ethereal music. Legolas smiled slightly and quietly walked out of the room, leaving his father alone.