Winter Magic

Part 17

“Ah,” said Legolas, turning towards the door, “that will be the March Warden—come in!”

Haldir entered, greeting Legolas and Fingolfin formally. “I have selected the Guard of Honour for your wedding,” he said, handing over the list.

“Thank you.” Legolas scanned the names. “Fine,” he said, “but that is not why I sent for you, Haldir. There is something else I need you to do.”

Pouring the March Warden a goblet of cider, Legolas described how he and Eowyn had found Melannen, sitting in the snow beside the Doro Lanthron road, how they had retraced his steps, along the stream and through the rocks, and had found the little town—

“I had no idea that there was a settlement up there,” said Haldir.

“Nor had I,” replied Legolas; and he went on to explain how, the next day, they had searched the Forest and found the ruined house, but no sign of the child’s parents.

“So you want me to make a thorough search,” said Haldir.

“Exactly,” said Legolas. “But do not go yourself. I suggest you send Camthalion and Orodreth.”

“May I make a further suggestion?” asked Fingolfin, who had been deep in thought since first hearing Legolas’ story.

“I would be grateful for it, my Lord.”

“Speak to Berryn, March Warden,” he said, referring to the colony’s cartographer. “He has mapped that region and will know the town. And, if he is willing to go, he will be a useful addition to the search party.”

“Of course,” said Legolas.

“Do you want me to send them out now,” asked Haldir, “or to wait until after the wedding?”

Legolas leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together with a sigh. “Just between us three,” he said, “I am worried for Eowyn. I am afraid that she is losing her heart to the boy. It is easily done.”

“He seems an excellent little fellow,” agreed Fingolfin.

“If she must part from him,” continued Legolas, “the sooner it happens, the better. So send them straightaway, Haldir, with permission to return here for the ceremony. They can continue the search afterwards, if need be.”

*****

Part 18

Legolas reached for the sitting room door.

“No, my Lord!” cried Galathil.

Legolas turned in surprise.

“Lady Eowyn is trying on her wedding dress, my Lord.”

“Ah—yes—thank you.” He knocked. “Is it safe for me to come in, melmenya?”

“Just a moment!”

Legolas’ sharp elven hearing caught the soft sounds of rustling fabric, and running feet, then silence; then the door opened, and Melannen smiled up at him. “Gwanur Eowyn and the sewing lady are hiding in the bedchamber,” he said.

…

By the time Eowyn re-emerged—dressed, once more, in her jerkin and boots—Legolas had taken out the gaming board and he and Melannen were setting up the pieces.

Eowyn smiled at the charming scene. “I am going to invite your Father to tea, Lassui,” she said.

…

Thranduil arrived with his ‘bodyguard’ in tow.

Eowyn nodded to Thorkell bogsveigir—standing beside the door, all dark and brooding, with his arms folded across his leather-clad chest—and handed him a glass of nettle tea and a plate of dainty savouries.

“Thank you.”

“Ridiculous!” cried Thranduil.

“Ada!” Legolas inclined his head, indicating with his eyes the child sitting beside him, who had heard and understood every word the Elvenking had spoken.

“Perhaps Melannen would like to see the new gardens,” said Eowyn. “I could ask Hentmirë to take him…”

But the elfling had immediately jumped up, and scooped up Niben and, to everyone’s surprise, was holding out his little hand to Thorkell bogsveigir.

Thranduil sighed. “Yes,” he said, “take the child to the gardens for half an hour.”

The Beorning set down his glass and plate, dusted the crumbs from his fingers and, with only the slightest hesitation, took Melannen’s hand and let the child lead him from the room.

“That man,” said Thranduil, “shrinks from nothing.”

…

“I am not making him the heir to the Woodland Realm, Ada,” said Legolas—and, knowing that Eowyn would not want to hear the truth, he found her hand, and squeezed it gently—“this is just a temporary arrangement, until his parents are found.”

“And who are these parents, I should like to know,” said Thranduil, “that they send their son into the wilderness with nothing but a cloth toy and a piece of parchment to protect him? I am not suggesting that he should not be taken care of—of course he should—but I am cautioning you against showing him so much personal favour. What is to stop these scoundrels pursuing their advantage and demanding compensation from the Lord and Lady who, they will say, having no children of their own, have kidnapped their boy?”

“They are elves, Ada,” said Eowyn, coldly. Their eyes met, and the look that passed between them conveyed an intimate understanding of skulduggery on his part, and a refusal to be intimidated by majesty on hers. “They are not Haradrim, and nor are they Elvenkings!”

“Melmenya!” Legolas clamped a hand to his mouth but was unable to stop his body shaking with laughter. “Ada,” he said, once he had regained his composure, “it is already settled. We rescued Melannen and we will take care of him until his parents are found. He is a fine little boy, a credit to the elves who raised him. I know that they did not abandon him lightly; and I know that they will be too overjoyed at finding him safe to ask for anything more.

“But if anyone should ever question our motives,” he concluded, “we will simply publish the letter.”

*****

Part 19

When Thorkell bogsveigir did not return with Melannen after half an hour, as ordered, Legolas and Eowyn went to look for them.

They found the Beorning in the public gardens, leaning against the flet wall (arms folded across his chest, as usual), watching the child build a snow-castle with two elflings and a tiny dwarf. “It seemed a shame,” he said, “to drag the boy away.”

Eowyn came up on tip-toe, and kissed his cold cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Thorkell.”

“Can I go back into the warmth now?”

…

Whilst the trio sat before a cheery fire, eating a supper of cheese tart and roasted vegetables, the servants cleared out the cloakroom, which Eowyn had decided would make the perfect bedchamber for Melannen (because it was warm and snug, with its own lavatory and washbasin, and a little bay window with a view of the city), then brought in a bed, two chairs, and a chest of drawers.

Miriel, meanwhile, found the boy a nightshirt, slippers, and a little dressing robe and, for the morning, a clean tunic and some leggings.

Then Eowyn bathed the boy, and put him to bed, and she and his Gwanur Legolas sat with him, telling him stories, until he fell into reverie.

…

Legolas sat in bed, watching Eowyn, at the dressing table, brushing her hair. “Melmenya…”

“Mmmm?”

“That is a beautiful smile.”

“You are going to warn me of the dangers of growing too fond of him.”

“If you think that I need to.”

Eowyn laid down her hairbrush and turned to the elf. “I do not love him as I love Meldon, Lassui,” she said, smiling at the memory of her double’s child, “truly, I do not. But I am very, very fond of him; and it is wonderful to be able to—to have the chance to spend this time with him.”

“Come here, melmenya.” Legolas held out his arms. “I will love you,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly, “until the End of Days and, however it may happen,”—his hand moved lightly, stroking, through the sheer silk of her nightgown, her gently curving belly—“we will have a child one day, I promise. The Valar have promised.”

…

He was so beautiful in the pale moonlight, so slender, yet so well-muscled, and he smelled so fertile, like a Forest in the rain, that Eowyn wanted more than their usual lovemaking—she desperately wanted his child.

“Now, Lassui,” she whispered. “Please let it be now.”

And she felt his weight settle upon her, and his hard thigh gently nudge her legs apart, and his warm, thick penis press into her aching body, and—though the healer had told her that it was hopeless—she could not stop herself hoping, and—

“Oh!” she cried.

Oh, dear gods, please!


*****

Part 20

Next morning

“Do you love Gwanur Eowyn?” asked Melannen.

Silently, Legolas closed the sitting room door and tip-toed across the room. The elfling—still in his nightshirt and slippers—was kneeling on the fireside rug, talking to his cloth rabbit.

“So do I—and Gwanur Legolas and Gwanur Thorkell.”

Legolas smiled.

“So do not be scared,” continued the boy, “because they will take care of us until they find Nana and Ada.”

Legolas retraced his steps, waited a few moments, then noisily opened the door. “Melannen? Are you there?”

A little face popped up from behind the couch.

“Shall we go and wake your Gwanur Eowyn, nadithen?”

…

“Now,” hissed Legolas.

The two elves ran across the bedchamber. Legolas grabbed the elfling round the waist, lifted him onto the bed, and bounced him up and down.

“Yaaaa!” cried Melannen. “Yaaaa, yaaaa!”

“Oh!” Eowyn awoke with a start. “Oh, you two!”

…

It took a surprisingly long time to wash and dress and when, at last, everyone was ready, it was time to join Hentmirë for breakfast.

The trio crossed the walkway to the woman’s house.

“Look, Melannen,” said Legolas, “a robin.” The elf held out a hand, and the bird fluttered down, and sat upon it, tilting its head to regard the elfling with a beady eye.

The boy laughed, and clapped his hands together, and the robin, untroubled by the noise or by the sudden movement, hopped onto his arm, then onto his shoulder, and up onto his head.

“Ow,” said Melannen, giggling, and wriggling under the bird’s tiny claws, “ow!”

“Now, now, little friend,” said Legolas and he reached out, and gently held a finger against the bird’s legs, and the robin hopped back onto his hand; and the elf lifted it into the air, and let the bird fly back to its branch.

Melannen rubbed his head.

“No harm done,” said Legolas, tousling the elfling’s hair.

And Eowyn, her heart glowing, took both elves by the hand, and led them indoors, before they could get into any more mischief.

…

Legolas and Eowyn spent the rest of the day preparing for the arrival of their distinguished wedding guests, leaving Melannen with Hentmirë, who took the boy to the pleasure gardens (where they played with snowballs), and then to the market (where they each had a bowl of thick lentil soup and a baked apple from one of the kiosks), and then—in her carriage—to the stone quarries (where Gimli fed the boy again, on honey cakes, and showed him how to use a mallet and chisel).

The following morning, at breakfast, Hentmirë presented Eowyn with a gift. “We saw it yesterday, in the market,” she said, “and the colour suited him so well, I just had to buy it.”

Eowyn opened the cloth wrapping. “Oh, Hentmirë,” she cried, “it is perfect! Thank you! What do you say, Melannen?”

“Thank you,” said the elfling, dubiously.

*****

Part 21

“Now,” said Eowyn, “raise your arms.”

Melannen, reconciled to his fate, lifted his little hands high above his head.

Smiling, Eowyn leaned in, and kissed his forehead, before wrapping the embroidered sash around his middle and folding its ends over. “Lower them,”—she adjusted the knot—“there! Perfect!”

“I,” said Legolas, looking up from his desk, “wore short tunics until my coming of age.”

“But you,” said Eowyn, “have a father who is a stickler for ancient tradition. Melannen has two Gwanurs—Gwanurs—is that right?”

“No.”

“Two Aunts who want him to look,”—she hesitated, carefully rejecting ‘like a prince’ and choosing—“nice.”

“And I am sure that he will look nice, melmenya,” said Legolas, laying down his pen and regarding the boy. “Turn around, Melannen; let me see the front.”

Raising his hands again, which made his floor-length robe ride up on his chest, the elfling slowly turned full-circle. Hentmirë’s gift was of the palest silver-blue brocade, and fitted him perfectly.

Legolas smiled. “Yes, he looks very nice,”—the boy turned again, and Legolas noticed his hair—“but, melmenya, he cannot wear warrior’s braids.”

“Oh.”

“A single braid, down the back.”

“Of course. Come Melannen,” said Eowyn, “back to the dressing table.” She held out her hand.

Legolas shot the elfling a sympathetic smile.

…

Later

“Ah! Good,” said Faramir, unconsciously reaching for Legolas’ shoulders and guiding him towards the Council Chamber, “I was getting worried.”

“This is only the rehearsal,” said Legolas. “I do not need to run away until tomorrow.”

“Legolas!”

The elf grinned.

“Very funny. Now come—your bride is waiting.”

“A moment, Faramir.” Legolas held out his hand, human fashion. “Before we go in, I want to thank you.”

“It has been my pleasure,” said Faramir, embracing the elf, “though, by the time you have placated your father, Legolas, I think you may regret having asked me to ‘meddle’ in your wedding arrangements.”

“I do not mean that,” said Legolas, “though I am, of course, grateful for all you have done these past few weeks. No, I mean for sending Eowyn to me.”

“Ah,” said Faramir, “now that requires no thanks. In fact, it is I who should be thanking you for taking care of her for me. No one could be happier for you both than I am.” He gave the elf’s hand a final squeeze; then, gesturing towards the double-doors, he asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

…

When the rehearsal was over, Legolas and Eowyn took Melannen down to the clearing beneath the city. And in the Banqueting Hall, which had been hung with velvet and garlanded with winter roses for the occasion, they received their guests of honour—Aragorn, Eomer, and King Shamash of Kuri—who, after taking refreshments with the happy couple, were shown to their accommodation by Lords Fingolfin and Caranthir, whilst their retinues were quartered by Captain Golradir and his palace guards.

…

After supper, the ladies and Melannen retired to Legolas and Eowyn’s chambers to enjoy Eowyn’s last night of ‘freedom’, whilst Legolas and his friends made themselves comfortable in the Banqueting Hall—lounging around the ring-shaped table, laughing, joking and telling tall tales; toasting nuts and sweetmeats; and drinking wine and dwarven ale.

“By the way, Legolas,” said Aragorn, pouring the elf a glass of fragrant red, “there is something I want to discuss with you—and Faramir—once the wedding festivities are over.”

“Thank you.” Legolas raised the glass to his friend before taking a drink. “Something regarding the colony?”

A cheer went up at the far side of the Hall—Gimli and Eomer, it seemed, had persuaded King Shamash to join in a drinking game. Aragorn smiled; Legolas shook his head.

“Not directly,” said the King. He took a handful of walnuts from the silver dish in front of him. “But it may draw settlers into the Daw Valley—”

“Is that the region just north of the Doro Lanthron road?”

“Yes.”

“I have a particular interest in that area,” said Legolas. “It is where we found Melannen.”

“I see. Well, this is nothing, really. The people of the valley have petitioned me for the right to hold a daily market,” said Aragorn. “They claim—quite rightly, I think—that both Eryn Carantaur and Caras Arnen are too far to travel. My concern is that a permanent settlement will soon grow up around the market place.”

“But, Aragorn,” said Legolas, frowning, “there is already a thriving town in that valley. At least, there was when Eowyn and I stayed there two days ago!”

*****

Part 22

Later, Legolas joined Eowyn in their chambers and, after checking on Melannen with her—watching her press a final goodnight kiss to his little brow, and whisper, “You were a very good boy today, sweetheart,”—he escorted her across the walkway to Hentmirë’s house.

“Aragorn is convinced,” he said, “that there is no town in that valley.”

“Which is exactly what you said when you came back with Niben.”

“Yes,” Legolas admitted, “but I must have been mistaken, melmenya. We spent two nights there.”

“Two nights that, apparently, did not exist either… Well, we will know more when Orodreth returns.”

“I shall miss you tonight,” said Legolas, knocking on Hentmirë’s door.

“It will soon pass, Lassui,”—Eowyn smiled—“and we have done it before.”

“With one or two small lapses,” said Legolas, “if I remember rightly.”

Eowyn’s smile turned into a wicked grin. “Goodnight, my darling.” She came up on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. “And, if you should get lonely during the night,”—Hentmirë’s companion opened the door and she lowered her voice to a whisper—“just imagine what you will be doing this time tomorrow!”

…

Knowing that he would not be able to sleep, Legolas climbed the stairs to their private garden.

The flet was covered with snow, and the plants, clustered together in their pretty pots, sparkled in the moonlight with a dusting of fine frost; but the bed, protected from the weather by its canopy, looked warm and inviting.

He sat down and, gazing up at the stars, sang softly,

“A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel—”

He broke off at the sound of running feet.

“We dreamed it!” Eowyn bounded onto the flet.

“Melmenya, your feet are bare!”

She had draped a fur rug over her thin nightgown, but her breath was steaming and her body was pinched with cold. Legolas swept her up and held her tight. “Oh, Eowyn nín! You should not have come out like this.”

“We dreamed it, Lassui,” Eowyn persisted, clasping her arms about his neck. “The drink—do you remember how we drank from Melannen’s water skin, and immediately felt tired?” Legolas carried her down the stairs. “I think we fell asleep, and dreamed the whole thing. That is why no time had passed when we got back.”

Legolas smiled, fondly. “And when did we wake up?”

“When I remembered our wedding—or perhaps a little later.”

“But why would we wake in a different place, melmenya?”

“Well, perhaps we had already walked a while before we fell asleep.”

“And we forgot that, too?”

“It is possible…” Eowyn frowned. “Do you think that, if Master Dínendal were to examine the drink, he could tell what it was?”

Legolas pushed open Hentmirë’s door. “I do not know, melmenya,” he said, manoeuvring her through the doorway.

“You are not convinced.”

“No.” He carried her into Hentmirë’s guest chamber.

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, we both had the same ‘dream’.” He set her down on the bed.

“Yes. Because of our bond.” She drew up her legs.

Legolas wrapped her in the coverlet. “And Melannen?”

“We do not know for sure what he thinks happened.”

Legolas kissed her forehead. “Then I will ask him in the morning. Just for you.”

“I will be coming over,” said Eowyn, “to help him wash and dress.”

“And there is no point in my trying to dissuade you, is there?”

“No.”

Legolas smiled. “Good night, melmenya.”

…

Next day

Eowyn arrived early. “Good morning, Lassui!” She beamed up at him. “Can I come in?”

“This feels strange,” said Legolas.

“I know. I do wish we had arranged the ceremony for this morning. It is going to be torture waiting all day.”

The elf gave her a quick brotherly hug. “There is still much to do,” he said. “What is that?”

She was carrying a small bundle. “Clothes for Melannen.”

“More clothes?”

“Lord Lenwë’s wife sent them. Everyone wants to make him welcome, Lassui.” She crossed the lobby and knocked on Melannen’s door. “Sweetheart?”

There was a thud, and then the sound of running feet—“Are we quite sure that he is an elf?” asked Legolas—and Melannen opened the door.

Eowyn gasped.

Hanging from the boy’s little hand was the jumping bear they had bought him, from the Yuletide Market beside The Two Ways tavern, in the town that did not exist.

*****

Part 23

Later that morning

Galathil showed King Thranduil—and his bodyguard—into the sitting room.

“Ada!” Legolas greeted his father joyfully. “I am so pleased to see you.”

“Yes, it has been all of ten hours,” said the Elvenking.

Legolas smiled. “This is such a strange time for me, Ada.” He gestured towards one of the chairs and Thranduil sat down. Thorkell bogsveigir took up his usual position, by the door.

“Eowyn and I have believed ourselves married for more than a year,” Legolas continued, taking the seat opposite his father’s. “So this ceremony,”—he shrugged—“it calls into question matters that we have already decided, and it asks us to make commitments that we have already made. It—as I said—it is strange.”

“In the longer term, Lassui,” said Thranduil, carefully arranging his elegant sash, “you will not regret having had these months to reflect, and make absolutely sure that Eowyn—”

The door opened and the lady herself entered. Thorkell bogsveigir stepped aside to let her pass.

“What are you doing here?” asked the Elvenking, bluntly.

“I will not be staying, Ada—but Melannen has lost Niben.”

“That boy!” Thranduil sighed. “And could you not have sent a maid?”

Eowyn looked under one of the chairs. “Míriel would not have known where—ah, here he is.” She held up the cloth rabbit; then, grasping its tiny paw, she made it wave to her future father-in-law.

“Melmenya!” Laughing, Legolas rose and, wrapping an arm around her waist, escorted her to the door.

“Is there any news from Orodreth, Lassui?” she whispered, anxiously.

“No, not yet.”

“You will send for me, when he arrives?”

“Of course.”

“All this business with the child has deranged Eowyn,” said Thranduil, as the door closed behind her.

“She is good with the boy,” muttered Thorkell bogsveigir.

…

Berryn and Camthalion arrived at midday and were immediately brought before Legolas and his father.

Legolas sent for Eowyn.

“Is there any news?” she asked, rushing into the sitting room.

“My Lady.” Camthalion bowed. “Yes, we have found out who the boy’s parents are.”

“And?”

“Melmenya—here.” Legolas guided her to a chair. “Please go on, Camthalion.” He stood beside his love, resting one supportive hand on her shoulder.

“The boy disappeared on the afternoon of the eighteenth,” said the elf. “His parents immediately raised the alarm—”

“But have you brought them here?” asked Eowyn, desperately.

“We missed them, my Lady,” said Berryn, gently. He took a step towards her, stretching out his hand; then—realising that his sympathetic gesture was inappropriate—he let the hand fall, but Eowyn rewarded him with a lovely smile. “They are out with one of the search parties, ma’am, and no one knows exactly where.”

“Orodreth has ridden to Doro Lanthron,” said Camthalion.

“It is their most likely route,” Berryn explained. “Across the valley, through the rocks—either where you found the pass, my Lord, or further east—and then along the River Emlin—”

“Just a moment,” said Thranduil, imperiously. “Are you saying that there is a sizable elven settlement in that Forest?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” said Berryn, bowing; then he glanced at Legolas for permission, before continuing, “I did not have time to see all of it, sire, but I would put the settlement at about fifty to sixty dwellings, which—at three to four persons per dwelling—would suggest a population of one hundred and fifty to two hundred elves. There was a central meeting hall, but no sign of a palace or of any other public building. We spoke with the edair—”

“Green elves,” said Thranduil.

“But we saw no sign of them, Ada,” said Legolas. “Three days ago, that Forest was empty, apart from the remains of Melannen’s house, and whatever made that terrible sound,”—he frowned—“and the Orc spoor—the house had certainly been attacked by Orcs at some time in the past—”

“But what about the note?” said Eowyn, suddenly. “‘Please look after this child,’ it said. Who put it in Melannen’s basket, Lassui—who wrote it—if not his parents?”

When Legolas could not answer, she looked to the others, one by one.

“The shining elf, perhaps,” said Thorkell bogsveigir.

All eyes were suddenly on the Beorning.

“It is just something the boy told me,” he explained, sheepishly. “A tall, shining elf said that he was to wait for two nice people who would take care of him, and his mother and father, and all of his friends.” Thorkell cleared his throat. “At least, that is what he said when we were in the park—er—making snowballs together.”

…

Next episode: A Yuletide Wedding