True Bow (Cuthenin)

Cuthenin (True-Bow)

by F.E.Morton

unbeta'd

italics = thoughts

(elvish translation)

Disclaimer: just borrowing; the characters and settings are Tolkien's,
the words here are mine.

Summary: A look at what might happen if Legolas was just known as a
messenger and not as Thranduil's son. The setting is just before the
Council of Elrond. Features Glorfindel/Legolas pairing.

Note: My thanks to those who have reviewed and those who are reading my story! I am deeply appreciative. I hope you will all allow the liberties I am taking in making this Legolas very young. Please remember this is all AU! If anyone is so moved to comment, let me know how Elrond's personality comes through? Review replies from both sites at the bottom.

Cheers,

Fred

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Canthui Peth: Gant Nedhened (Part Four: Caught in the Middle)

"…brazenly escorted his latest quarry to the family spa, flaunting him right before my face. Well does Glorfindel know my habits and at what time I may be found there."

"Mayhap he forgot. What is the silvan like? I heard he is fair of face and fierce of mien."

"Fair enough, but he was not very bold when I saw him. The Wood Elf is all enormous blue eyes and yellow hair, just like a certain Galadhrim warden who should be lashed for his bold effrontery. No slight intended upon the grandeur of your flaxen mane, Lindir."

"Nay, no insult is taken, Gildirn (Star-gazer - a nick-name for Erestor). I am Sindar, as well you know, and my colour derives from my father's distant connection to the Vanyar. But pray continue; what more did you note other than the hue of his tresses?"

"I saw everything and there was nothing unusual about his physique, if that is what you want to know. Well formed and well proportioned, yet he is slight of build and small of stature. If not for all the barbaric tattoos one might mistake him for an elfling on the cusp of maturity. In fact, the messenger is probably younger than Estel."

"Surely not! Aragorn is only eighty-seven years old; even were the silvan twice that he would be little more than a babe."

"I cannot be sure of the exact number of coranar (years), but he barely looks old enough to be off the breast much less running around in the wilds."

"I thought you did not like him; now you sound as if you would make a play for the youth. Is that your plan, Erestor? Will you vie against your former love for the rodwen vaethor (virgin warrior)?"

The two elves sat in the comfort of a cluttered den filled with books and parchment scrolls, maps and architectural diagrams, charts of the heavens, a globe or two and several well-crafted telescopes and spyglasses of assorted sizes and powers of magnification. It was overall a brown room; seemingly every shade of the colour must be represented, from stark tan where the sun's gleam polished the pinewood floor to the rich mahogany and walnut of the elegantly formed furniture. There was a desk, overflowing with sheaves and scrolls, ink and quills, ledgers and log-books enough to require a month's diligent perusal to clear away. The chair tucked behind it was massive, upholstered in tough deer-hide stained almost black, patched and re-paired; its padded seat compressed into a perfect cast of its owner's rear.

A collection of less formal chairs and sofas occupied an alcove just inside a triangular foyer where the long winding staircase ended. Another door led from the landing to a small bedchamber and a third opened on the room between that and the cluttered office. Bookcases lined the inner walls of the workroom and defined a narrow chimney with a grate only large enough to burn coal inside it. This hearth dually served the bedroom behind the wall it filled. The shelves, stuffed with tomes, remained the only tidy, organised component of the suite.

Except for the magnificent observatory.

The clover-leaf shaped apartment was situated at the topmost story of the Last Homely House and the ceiling of the central, high-domed chamber was made of curved, heavily leaded, over-lapping glass panes. These were hinged at their bases and could be opened out and laid flat upon the surrounding roof like the petals of a flower. An ingenious platform occupied the floor beneath this unusual skylight and mounted on this was a tremendous telescope. Due to a series of cleverly designed levers and gears, the optical masterpiece could be raised up through the opening with unbelievable ease and trained in any direction upon the heavens.

Once lifted to its full height, the platform came level with a broad circular, railed walkway. Utilising this, an observer could point and manipulate the telescope into any angle or direction. The star-gazing devise was Erestor's pride and joy, for there was no other like it anywhere in Middle-earth, nor in Aman, he believed. Upon this highest point in the valley's centre, the Noldo Lord spent his nights, examining the movements of the stars and mapping their circular tracks.

He was not so engaged at this hour of the day, however. Having returned from his interrupted bath, Erestor had reported briefly to Elrond what he had observed of the silvan's identity and then sought for the company of his good friend Lindir in order to share a more in depth recitation of his impressions. He was sprawled over an over-stuffed leather armchair the colour of nutmeg, absently twirling a wineglass in his fingers. Lindir sat primly on the long matching sofa, feet resting on a tapestry covered footstool, as he sipped from his own goblet, peering in speculative amusement at his agitated friend.

"I had not thought of that," mused the Noldo, eyes narrowing to a predatory slit of eerie lightlessness. Lindir lifted his brows and opened his mouth to respond when a rap on the door both belayed his remark and preceded the entry of a formally clad servant.



"My Lord, Hîren Elrond (Lord Elrond) asks for your presence in his study," stated the young page with a stiff bow that ended in an abrupt step back as the ebony haired Noldo leaped from his seat.

"Hannaden; return to your duties, Lochgaer," (Red Ringlet) answered Erestor, already moving toward the door. "I shall endeavour to complete the trite little tale for you another time, Lindir. Perhaps Elrond has more news of the messenger's mission."

"I look forward to it! Yet I may be occupied later this day. I shall seek you out if I chance upon any interesting observations of my own in the meantime," replied the minstrel, rising to accompany his friend from the suite. Yet Lindir found he was unwilling to move at the speedy pace set by the Noldo Lord and soon Erestor and the page were out of sight.

A low murmur of voices engaged in serious discussion met Erestor's ears as he reached the hallway of the Elven Lord's private apartment. The study door stood ajar and the advisor barely paused to knock before pushing through it and striding forth into the room. He spied Elrond standing on the balcony overlooking the western sky and the high craggy cliff of the shielding wall. The scion of Eärendil turned to acknowledge his kinsman with a slight nod but did not stop speaking.

"…are convinced the injuries are no longer a threat the archer's health? I do not want to force the issue with him but neither would I knowingly send a courier back over the mountains in less than hardy constitution."

"Aye, the wounds are healed, not entirely so, but no longer is the poison retarding the body's natural ability to complete the process. With a short respite, the Wood Elf should be ready for anything." It was Glorfindel who answered, of course. He eyed the Chief Advisor with cold appraisal.

"Oh but surely he had those wounds when he defeated the band of Orcs hiding along the North Road," Erestor sneered. "I am certain we need not spare any worry for his ability to survive the return journey."

"Nay, it is one thing for the archer to have battled his way through, wounded and exhausted but driven by desperate necessity, and quite another for me to deliver him into it again without assuring his strength is fully renewed," admonished Elrond with a sharp look at his kinsman.

"As you say, Lord," the advisor acquiesced.

"Erestor, I have asked you here to refresh my memory on the matter of Thranduil's family. Please, be seated." Elrond indicated a chair near Glorfindel. "What intelligence do we have on the number and ages of his offspring?" And got right to the point.

"Ah, so Glorfindel has confirmed the nature of those artful decorations? What tales we have on the history of the latter generations of Oropher's House are not very reliable. Other than the births of Thranduil's two sons, one shortly after his arrival in Greenwood and a second following the dreadful losses at Dagorlad, nothing more can be ascribed to fact." Erestor sat as he spoke, ignoring the Vanya warrior. "However, his wife-mate is believed departed for Mandos many centuries ago, a victim of poisoning from the encroachment of the spiders at the end of the Sîdh Tirithbant (Watchful Peace). This silvan messenger, marked as a third son, is most likely some bastard got on a serving girl or a courtesan, perhaps."

"Tell me, Erestor, what is it that makes you so vile of temper in these days?" demanded Glorfindel in indignation, for this was by far the worst slur the Noldo had made upon the Wood Elf's personage yet. "Yon messenger has never harmed you, of this I am certain. Is it the connection to Thranduil? Does your bitterness stem from the…"

"My vileness, Glorfindel, my bitterness? What talk is this of slander when you utter such to me?" Erestor rose and loomed over the Balrog Slayer, face a livid mask of outrage.

"Enough!" barked Elrond, scowling at each in turn. "I will not permit your petty squabble to invade the tranquility of my domain. Be seated, cousin," he said and awaited the seneschal's obedience. When both his most trusted counsellors were at least outwardly peaceable, Elrond favoured each with a warning glare from grey eyes swarming with the fury of a gathering storm.

"Yet the error was mine. It was wrong of me to even bring it up, for it does not matter what we may say about the messenger's status," he continued, clasping his hands behind him and facing the pleasing scenery once more. "Thranduil has made certain to declare him a son and that is that.

"His age seems short, by both of your estimations. At most he would be in his seven-hundredth year, if he is the late Queen's offspring, and at least, well, that is anyone's guess. What say you, Glorfindel?"

"Not anywhere near seven-hundred, my Lord. I doubt he is past his second century."

"And your opinion, Erestor?"

"I concur; I remarked to Lindir that he seems younger than Aragorn."

"Nay, not so immature as that," countered Glorfindel, "but certainly much younger than any other woodland messenger sent to Lorien. I do not think he is far from his Coll o Gweth (Mantle of Maturity - Coming of Age), for he indicated he has not yet lost innocence."

"How did you learn that?" demanded Erestor.

"By asking."

A heavy silence followed this pronouncement as Elrond bent such a steely eye upon them both that neither dared resume the bickering contention.

"Then I doubt it not," declared the Lord of the Realm. "He is less than five centuries, probably little more than two. Highly irregular for him to be exposed to such rigours! The question bothering me concerns more than his age; why would Thranduil risk his own flesh and blood just to bring us tidings, even grave news such as this?"

"From what Legolas has told me, it is more to do with insufficient forces to spare. I do not think anyone in the Greenwood is accorded special consideration, regardless of rank or lineage," offered Glorfindel.

"So you believe it was just his turn to go?" Elrond's tone made it plain he did not believe this theory. He glanced over his shoulder and delivered a repudiating grimace complete with arched brow and matching, one-sided sardonic uplift of his lips.

"Nay, I did not say so. He told me he was charged to see to it because he was involved in the events he must report. He believes himself responsible for the situation and its consequences."



"I do not wonder the King found Legolas inadequate to the task, for one so callow should never have been placed in a position of authority," sniped Erestor.

"You do not even know what the news involves! How can you make such a claim?" exploded Glorfindel, rising and pointing down at his former friend and lover.

"I do not need to know; one look at him is enough to tell he is in severe disfavour at least from his King and probably from the silvan populace in general. No loving father would deploy his youngest child, one practically still dripping from the amniotic sac, on so doomed a journey," Erestor answered with smug satisfaction, relaxing as Glorfindel tensed. "It strikes me he was sent away to meet his death."

"You underestimate his ability; he dispatched a goodly troop of vermin very near our lands. Every arrow found its target with deadly precision. He was not awarded his name for naught and no doubt his King is fully aware of this gift. You are deceived by your own prejudice, Erestor; all the Athedrainyn are small in stature and thus more youthful in appearance than their accumulated years deserve."

"I bear no disdain for this Wood Elf beyond that which I hold for the race as a whole, and this is not bigotry but a justified distrust for their wisdom and intelligence. My evaluation is based on personal observations during the Last Alliance, not unsubstantiated hearsay or rumour," remarked Erestor languidly, smiling up at his colleague's irritated and highly coloured countenance. "As for the slain Orcs, there is another opinion."

"Aye, as sorry and baseless a defamation as any I have ever heard. If some other elves of Greenwood aided him, then where are they? Surely even had they left him alone yestereve they would have resumed their travel at dawn and would have reached the borders before now," countered Glorfindel.

"Far!" (Enough!) spoke Elrond with sufficient emphasis to cause both his advisors to drop their heads in embarrassment. The Keeper of Vilya eyed them both with undisguised displeasure, for he had long ago grown weary of the ill-feeling lingering between the two. Even now, when he felt the need to tend the injured hobbit, he was forced to referee yet another dispute and attempt to fathom which of them had made a better, or at least a less biased, assessment of the woodland messenger. From his perspective, the hapless archer had become trapped in yet another power-struggle neither of the counsellors could hope to win, for the goal of each was merely to wound the heart of the other. He decided to point this out to them.

"It is an imposition upon me, personally, to be forced to extricate this guest from the cross-fire of your continuing contest to learn which of you is the most pig-headed and arrogant. Cuthenin will have much of note to report to his King, yet little of it will be favourable to our realm and people if this continues.

"Erestor, there is no need to speak so harshly regarding this elf's status for, even if your thoughts explain his situation, how is this a thing he could will or un-will? Why make the son culpable for his sire's errors? Thranduil claims him, that shall have to be good enough for us, regardless if he wedded the mother or not.

"Furthermore, keeping his station secret is not so hard to understand; we need not resort to assigning his motives to punishment and its resultant shame. How often do Elrohir and Elladan go forth lacking any indication, whether on their persons or in their speech, of their relationship to me and this valley? We all understand the reason for such subterfuge; far more severe would any reprisals be should my sons be captured by our enemies were their identities revealed. Far more devastating to have their lives held hostage in exchange for my aid in an unscrupulous cause, or even for possession of a particular article which I wield."

"Your words are wise, My Lord," Erestor stood and made a deep bow to his kinsman, cheeks stained with abashed discomfort to be so chastised, and in front of Glorfindel at that. "I shall make no further reference to the messenger's status among his folk or his worthiness to fulfil his appointed task."

"Well said," approved the Peredhel Lord. He turned his attention to the Balrog Slayer next. "Mellonen, your words say much to me, both in what you have spoken and what you have held back. I take it you have been entrusted with confidential communication from the silvan archer." Elrond lifted his hand to forbid the words Glorfindel opened his mouth to utter. "That is well; I am pleased you have earned the warrior's trust, for the Wood Elves do not give it lightly. Mind that you treat the allegiance with the respect it deserves, for this is the son of a valourous and noble elf, no matter what Thranduil's detractors may allege.

"Neither will I attempt to pry beyond the limits of your honestly given word, as long as your intent is genuine. Yet I will not have an impressionable youth come to harm due to some unresolved issues between yourself and Erestor. If he is as young as my cousin's knowledge suggests, then Legolas is in a most vulnerable period of development. Should I deem it necessary, I will intervene in this budding friendship at once."

The noble Vanya had turned the colour of a sun-ripened pomegranate upon hearing this and straightened his spine to almost painful rigidity. Elrond had come just short of warning him off a romantic seduction of the silvan, as if Glorfindel was set on pursuing the ellon for the mere thrill of relieving Cuthenin of innocence or to spite his previous lover. Or both.

He flashed an accusing glare at Erestor, for the advisor had obviously wasted no time in reporting to Elrond upon leaving the baths. It was likely his Lord's low evaluation of the Vanya's morals had spawned in the clever minded advisor's bitter heart. The Balrog Slayer took a long moment to reign in his wrath over this oblique yet sharp rebuke. A deep breath allowed him to steady his mind and relax his hands, which he found had curled into angry fists quite without his knowledge. Glorfindel bowed.

"My Lord, I will in every way possible honour the messenger's good faith in me. It is not my wish to see Cuthenin suffer harm on my watch, either."

"Good, I am satisfied." Elrond paced slowly out onto the balcony as he spoke, absently twiddling one long tendril of his brunette hair between his fingers. "Now then, I think it is clear we should not spread the facts regarding his lineage among the populace of Imladris, for he does not wish it known and I see no purpose in assigning him undue attention. From preliminary descriptions, he shall receive enough of that as it is.

"However, with the council convening in so short a time, it will be necessary to share his true identity with the elves participating. These shall be limited to the three of us plus Galdor and my sons should they return in time. Mithrandir probably knows all about it already but the mortals need not be informed." Abruptly he wheeled and glowered at Erestor. "Unless your tongue has been even looser than normal today. What have you said of the Wood Elf, other than your insinuations regarding Glorfindel's inordinate interest?"

"I did not say…I merely noticed that he is of a certain type…" stammered the advisor, now as red-faced as the Balrog Slayer.

"What does that mean?" fumed Glorfindel, rounding on the Noldo in umbrage. "Not everything is related to your imagined betrayal and unwarranted accusations against Rumil."

"Silence!" shouted Elrond. Both his counsellors jumped to hear him raise his voice, an uncommon occurrence in Imladris. "I will not tolerate this. Cease this juvenile argument and attend to the matter at hand which, may I remind you both, is paramount to the future of all the free peoples of Arda!"

"Gohenna nîn, Hîren," (Forgive me, my Lord.) Each murmured quietly, duly chastened.

Elrond regarded them with overt disappointment that caused their lowered heads to sink further until their chins nearly rested upon their chests. "Erestor? Please respond to my question."

"Aye, Lord. It is true I have remarked to Lindir of Legolas' youth and beauty and Glorfindel's personal attention to his comfort. I have spoken of his tattoos and the name Legolas and of his relationship to the Greenwood's ruling House, but this only to Lindir and no other. He is not wont to spread this news, for I informed him it is exclusive."

"Eglerio Varda," (Praise Varda) remarked the Peredhel Lord with dry sarcasm. "Lindir is probably the only one of your friends capable of discretion. I take it that you shared with others?"

Now Erestor wished he had a wizard's capacity to vanish into nothingness or perhaps a magic ring like Bilbo's so as to become invisible. It was too evident that the Lord of Imladris was cognisant of his propensity for tongue-wagging and was not unaware of the often spiteful nature of such converse.

"I may have mentioned Legolas to Elamrûn (Eastern Star) and Ithil'wath," he admitted, "but not his relationship to Oropher's House."

"Oh? Well that is surprising. I would have thought this exactly the kind of malicious rumour you would enjoy starting, knowing you were the author of all the unpleasant speculations flowing among the conversations in the Hall of Fire tonight," Glorfindel snarled in disdain. When Erestor's countenance became a sickly shade of moonlit mist, light dawned in the Vanya's thoughts.

"You were reserving that bit for a full audience! Did you mean to publicly announce your scurrilous interpretation of the archer's legitimacy?" It was clear Erestor could not deny this as he remained silent. "Oh that is despicable!" spat Glorfindel. "And even with that insult averted, Elamrûn will spread your seamy innuendoes throughout the nobility and among diplomats; word of it will no doubt reach the visiting mortals also! As for Ithil'wath, he needed no fuel to feed his unreasonable resentment for the Wood Elf. You have quite surpassed even your most vitriolic tattling!"

"Indeed. Yet I have limited the spread of this unsavoury depiction at least partially, for I intercepted Elamrûn and cautioned him to hold his thoughts private. I can only hope he had not had the opportunity to meet with his cronies. As for Ithil'wath, I was not aware your friends included the lower ranks of Imladris' guards, Erestor," droned Elrond, fixing his advisor with the piercing light of disillusionment.

"I am sorry and yet I do not understand all this fuss over an insignificant woodland warrior. It is not as if we have never made these primitive folk the centre of such jesting before," the advisor made a lame attempt at justification. This was a mistake, for Glorfindel had all he could do to keep from doing violence to the elf.

"That is beyond tolerance! Do not include me in your sordid idea of amusement. As for this particular archer, the insignia of Oropher's House should be sufficient cause for catering more to his good graces instead of creating an enemy among the Elven King's sons."

"Exclude me from it as well, cousin, for I hope I am not unmindful of the fact that Thingol is my great-great-grandsire. The Sindar are not so far away from my lineage and this elf Legolas carries that blood. He is almost a kinsman!" added Elrond.

Now Erestor was angry, for not only had he been exposed as an incorrigible quidnunc but his words had been turned against him, made to malign the Lord of his realm. Additionally, he must endure this scathing denouncement from Glorfindel, who had long ago wronged him and never paid for it. He kept his seething heart silent, however, for he wished no further abuses to fall from Elrond's lips.

"Well, it cannot be helped. What you have spoken cannot be unspoken. Legolas begins his stay in Imladris under notoriety but not debased as the King's bastard. Let not the gossips have that to chew on; there is more than enough to satisfy them when the accusations made by Ithil'wath are added. Am I clear, Erestor?"

"Perfectly, my Lord," the advisor replied with a dip of his head and his eyes upon the ornately patterned rug beneath his boots.

"Then we shall proceed as you suggested, Glorfindel, and refer to him as Legolas Cuthenin when among the populace at large," Elrond continued. "Further, I will have Legolas' report given at the council, for I am convinced, as is Mithrandir, that his presence is not coincidental. The Wood Elf is meant to be here at this time and I believe his fate now intersects with the Ring."

"Ai! He will not be well pleased to hear of this, Lord!" exclaimed the veteran warrior. "He desires to return home as soon as possible and left his fallen companions in the mountain. This weighs upon his heart and mind grievously."

"It cannot be helped. I can little hasten the healing of Frodo's wounds, for Morgul poison is both treacherous and tenacious. Frodo will not be strong enough for the rigours of such debate for at least another day. You will have to find means to convince the archer of the importance of the cause before us. Say that I insist he remain, beg his aid with the patrols, beseech his tutelage in archery; I care not as long as he stays. As for this grief, it is no light matter."

"True. He needs to find an outlet for the shock of losing every elf under his captaincy, even though these were but three in number. This was his first trial of command," concurred the Vanya gravely.

"Most unfortunate. Mayhap Mithrandir knows something of silvan customs in mourning the dead." Elrond shook his head and frowned. "As for the loss of self-confidence, I feel you may allay that to large extent. He is bound to be impressed by the opinions of a warrior of such renown."

Erestor could not stifle a scoffing snort at that remark and while he gloated over Glorfindel's bristling displeasure, he was not happy to have garnered Elrond's anew.

"Yes, Erestor? You wished to add something?" The Lord of Imladris turned to his Chief Advisor, reproof in his cool tones and censure in his icy glare. "Have you any knowledge of the ceremonies in the Greenwood for honouring the deceased?"

"Nay, the Wood Elves are the most secretive of all elf-kind. Those primitive rituals are not for outsiders. I do not believe any Noldorin elf has witnessed a silvan burial. No one from Lorien, to my recollection, has attended a funeral in the Greenwood for aeons. Mayhap Lord Celeborn would know."

"That is not very enlightening," Elrond remarked drily, "and I doubt Celeborn would be privy to their ways. Nevertheless, I will give thought to Galadriel to inquire of him."

Erestor could not help feeling irritated by the open annoyance Elrond displayed. To his mind, the Lord of the Valley should back his kinsman rather than the Balrog Slayer, yet never had Elrond made any mention in sympathy to Erestor of the broken relationship. Yet now he would protect the tender feelings of a common Wood Elf and mock his cousin's ignorance of silvan ways. How could he be faulted for lacking the information his Lord required? Never before had the superstitious lore of the forest-dwellers been of interest to anyone in Imladris. It rankled that failing to understand burial customs of such lesser elves put him in a poor light. Still, he said nothing.

"Lord, if I may, I believe the comprehension we seek can be gleaned here in Imladris," asserted Glorfindel. Both Noldor turned questioning eyes upon him and he continued. "There are certain prayers and incantations inked upon Legolas' skin that come from a place far removed from Greenwood. I have seen such marks on elves belonging to the House of the Tree, of which Galdor was once the mightiest Lord. He will know what needs to be done and I will bid him instruct me."

"Truly? You are saying the Sindar which Oropher led across the Hithaeglir originated in Gondolin?" Elrond was intrigued.

"Well, originated at Cuiviennen, surely, but journeyed thence to Beleriand. Many survived the wars with Melkor and fled with Turgon to Gondolin. After the fall of the city, these elves made the long trek back. A multitude was the host of Sindarin elves Oropher salvaged from the destruction of Doriath. Among these must have been a remnant few from Gondolin and they must have preserved the old ways, for Legolas bears the evidence of it."



"Fascinating! I admit to heightened anticipation in meeting this unusual elf. Pursue that link and keep me informed of Legolas' disposition." Elrond voiced this dismissal with a smile and then met his chief Advisor's gaze a final time. "Thank you for your input, Erestor; I am sure I can depend upon you to surmount personal reservations in order to accommodate the many divers peoples among us during this pivotal moment in history. The success of this perilous venture may depend on such co-operation, and our example will be an invaluable instruction for the mortals to heed."

The two counsellors bowed low and left the Lord's study together, proceeding in stony silence along the corridor. At the juncture of a winding narrow downward stairwell, Glorfindel turned away to descend and Erestor would not let him go without a parting jab.

"If you seek Galdor, try the suite reserved for Celeborn on the second floor," he offered, "though I know not why you need his aid. You no doubt have ample ideas on how to distract the silvan from his sorrows."



Glorfindel halted and glared over his shoulder, yet he decided any retort would please Erestor and give him some sense of victory, and so he resumed his pace without further conflict.

Now that was entirely unsatisfactory to Elrond's Chief Advisor and he was struck with the desire to locate the Wood Elf and see what manner of reaction he could raise from him. Someone needs to warn the youth regarding the fickleness of Glorfindel's affections, ere his heart is wounded. Assuming the silvan would be quartered along with the Lorien messenger, Erestor turned to follow a different passageway. As luck would have it, this carried him through the wing wherein the dwarven Lords were staying and he was waylaid by one of the lesser Naugrim chieftains. He was forced to endure a lengthy diatribe alleging effrontery from among the humans from Gondor and had to intercede in order to prevent a formal claim being lodged against the foolish nobleman. He was thus delayed nearly two hours.

By this time Erestor decided he would postpone his encounter with the Wood Elf until after the midday meal, which would be ready in short order. He doubled back and ascended to the third level of the family wing, taking a back corridor that was a shortcut to the twisting spiral up to the roof and his private apartment. There was little of interest in this area of the house, for its rooms were mainly for storage. Therefore he was astounded to round the corner and nearly run upon the archer, leaning casually against the wall by the opened door of a small storeroom. The elf heard his step and looked back, presenting a cheek marked with a vivid, new, swelling bruise of deep violet. Curiosity was overcome by indignation, however, and Erestor could not constrain his tongue from voicing it.

"This area is reserved for the Lord's family. What are you doing in here?" He demanded in condescending tones and nearly fell over when a second and then a third head peered out from the confines of the closet. The Lord's twin sons had returned at last and, as was their nature, informed no one. They stepped into the hall and flanked the messenger.

"Well we live here, do you not remember?" jibed Elladan.

"I do not think he was speaking to us, muindor, (brother)" corrected Elrohir. "We invited Legolas to join us."

"For he has lost his pack in a harrowing battle and has need of spare clothing while his own is laundered and mended," continued the elder twin, gently touching the slashed stain upon the shoulder of the courier's shirt.

"Mayhap you can aid us; where are the garments Estel outgrew in his twentieth year? We are of a mind that they will fit our guest better than anything we have in our closets," Elrohir stated and placed a hand upon the archer's shoulder in a gesture that spoke volubly of protective comradeship.

Erestor stared from one to the other in open displeasure and included the silvan in his exasperated scrutiny. It seemed to be the day for this elf to be the cause for making him appear foolish among his kinfolk. He compressed his lips thinly and took a moment to compose his mind before saying anything else. He inhaled a breath and let it out slowly.

"How generous of you both, and highly appropriate; I am sure Elrond would approve such kindness," he said awkwardly.

"Kindness? To me it seems a simple courtesy and the least of favours considering what I have heard from the night patrol," Elrohir frowned, disliking his kinsman's cold attitude.

"Well said. And I would not wish to unsettle the rest of the guests at mealtime by having them view the gory evidence of our mutual troubles," concurred the Chief Advisor, realising he needed to adjust his mood or stand another scolding, this time in front of the Wood Elf and from elves he had tutored long ago. "I believe the trunk you seek is on the third shelf at the back of the closet. It is the one with the painted scenes depicting the Valar and the Making of Arda."

"Ah! Of course, that was in Estel's nursery. How did I forget?" laughed Elladan and disappeared inside once more as the rest of the elves tuned their attention to the sounds of his rummaging. Elrond's eldest soon sounded an exclamation of satisfaction. "Ha carnen!" (It is done!) His arm reappeared ahead of the bulk of him, bearing a folded, paper-wrapped bundle. "Here, Legolas; I believe these will suffice. See, Toltharil (Fetcher) even labelled the set: 'silk shirt, white, six palms (1 palm = 4 inches); brown sueded leggings, eight palms; indigo over-tunic, six palms. These measurements are fairly close to yours, I would warrant." Elladan exited fully and stood beside his brother as both evaluated the archer's slender frame.

"Hannaden," said Legolas with a bow and accepted the package.

"Nay, I am thinking even these are too broad of girth and too long in the shanks. He will need a belt of some sort," argued Elrohir. He shifted his hold to the archer's forearm and tugged as he proceeded down the passage. "Follow me, our apartment is just one floor above. There you may change clothing in privacy and we will deliver your tattered garb to the laundry staff."

"Oh, I am able to tend to such things; there is no need to trouble the Lord's employees on my behalf," Legolas had never been catered to by servants before and was a bit rattled, uncertain if he was expected to acquiesce or demure. He decided on the latter, reasoning that messengers were not considered guests and the Lord's sons were merely being polite, for they could not know of his lineage and rank.

"What nonsense!" retorted Elladan, moving up alongside and taking the Wood Elf's other arm. "You are our guest and we will not allow you to work in the laundry while you are here!" So saying he smiled at the young silvan's uncertainty as Elrohir laughed merrily.

"Aye! How our Adar would scold us if he learned of such! You will just have to adjust to our ways, Legolas, for Imladris is not like the Greenwood." With that the escorted the silvan down the hall and away, leaving Erestor to tidy up the disarrayed storeroom.

TBC

Reviews: Aff.net:

Yanic: Thank you! I do try to throw in a bunch of elvish and even though I am still learning, it is fun to do! Yes, Erestor could get a rather embarrassing surprise if Legolas decided to use that against him, but Legolas is not that way. I love tattoos and could not remember reading of Legolas being tattooed in another fanfic so thought I would add it in.

Calenharn Elflover: Well I am glad you decided to try it! Thank you for those compliments I very much appreciate them. Yes, everyone is rather OOC in one respect or another in this story, that is true. This will continue to be AU so canon is more alluded to than adhered to in this tale. I also agree it is unlikely every single culture would find male/male pairing acceptable, and thought the tension this generates would make a few things more believable as the story progresses. Glorfindel and Erestor's 'history' is obviously far from over as each find ways to try and hurt or deride the other. Thus he refers to him as 'Noldo' in a rather off-hand way. He does not have a problem with all the Noldor, it is a very personal conflict between the two that generated the less than kindly use of the term.

However, I am not clear why you are surprised about the sandstone in the Valley of Imladris? Many river valleys are floored in sedimentary rock, and the Misty Mountains are so tall they must be like the Himalayas, which are metamorphosed sedimentary and sea-floor rock, like the Appalachians in the US. One does not need a near-by source of magma for a hot-spring, if that was the concern and the reason for the notion of granitic bedrock. Thank you and I hope you like my next chapter!

By the way, I could not help but notice that chapter 104 of 'Feud' is dedicated to you!

TJ: Thank you! You are the second to comment on the male/male anxiety for Legolas so I am glad I took that route with the story. I am sorry Erestor is so vindictive, and I appreciate that you are still with me anyway! I can promise that he has good reason for his bitter hurt and anguish, which displays as anger and malicious jealousy. Legolas is caught in the middle of the ongoing battle between the former lovers and yet perhaps it is Erestor for whom we should feel the most sympathy.

EV: Thank you for reviewing! I am glad you do not find the tattoos a reason to turn from the story. The marks are very important to Legolas, as future chapters will tell. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Teri: Thank you! I agree, I never read a story with Legolas tattooed and since I like them and have them, I decided to go for it. Besides, it fit so well with the silvan cultural religious element i am trying to add in. You are right, someone needs to bring Erestor down a bit. Elrond will do his best but Erestor has some serious issues to get over before he will be able to see Legolas as an individual rather than a rival.

uppacrick: Thank you for your compliments! That is very encouraging, to be both welcomed when there are so many gifted fanfic writers AND to have my style likened to Tolkien's!

Reviews from FF.net:

wolenczak2004: I am so glad you enjoyed it! Thank you for those kind words! And I am glad you liked the tattoos.

Coiling Death: Thanks so much! Glad you like how it is turning out. I am sure Erestor has many redeeming qualities, but we may not see them for a few chapters yet!

angelbird12241: Thank you and I am so glad you found it too. Hope you will continue to enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

XXDragons-ShadowXX: Well I am as pleased as can be! You wrote Healing Touch and I love that story very much! That makes your compliments very special and I thank you for them. Glorfindel/Legolas is one of my favourite pairs too. Yes, Erestor's bitterness is OC, yet I could not help it and he will learn to forgive in time. Thanks for your support over that!

And as always, thank you to everyone making the hit counter climb even if you are too shy and/or too busy to review. I appreciate you all!