Vocabulary

muinthel-nîn—my sister

muindor-nîn—my brother

Legolas held the goblet up and admired it. Most of the drinking vessels at Elrond's table were made of metal—either silver or gold. The Elves were of course perfectly capable of creating the most exquisite goblets of crystal and glass, but at Elrond's table such goblets had been rarely seen during the years when the elf-lord had been raising his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and fostering Legolas, or Anomen, as he had been known in those days. In those early years, the twins and their foster brother had broken far too many of the elegant goblets, and the sparkling stemware had vanished from the table, packed into crates until such time as Elrond deemed it safe for them to once again grace the table.

Now at last the twins and their foster brother had reached the elven equivalent of adulthood and there seemed little risk that glass goblets would be shattered by elflings attempting to surreptitiously wing one another with biscuits. Elrond had thus ordered the glass goblets unpacked from the crates that had guarded them for centuries, and now Legolas held one in his hand and turned it round and round.

"Lovely, isn't it?" said a soft voice, and Legolas turned to smile at Arwen, who had recently returned from her years of fosterage in the household of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.

"Not as lovely as you, muinthel-nîn," he replied.

"So gallant, muindor-nîn," she laughed. "Elrohir is fortunate that you do not yet choose to unleash your charms upon the maidens. When that day comes, he will no longer have as many to choose from for his trysts."

"Arwen!"

"Oh, do not play the innocent, Legolas! I saw you the other day as you decoyed Lindir away from the garden so that he might not stumble over Elrohir dallying with his sister."

Legolas blushed and cast down his eyes.

"Pity," Arwen sighed, "that you could not perform the same service for Aragorn and me."

Legolas looked up astonished. Arwen laughed at his horrified expression.

"Do not worry, Legolas. Aragorn is much more of a gentleman than Elrohir ever was. He twines only his fingers within mine—unlike Elrohir, who twines—"

"Arwen!" shouted Legolas, clapping his hands over his ears.

"What mischief is our little sister up to," called Elladan as he entered the chamber. "Has she climbed upon a tree limb and gotten her skirt dirty, as of yore?"

"That is not the limb that interests me," murmured Arwen, bestowing a sweet smile upon her brothers before gliding the room. Elladan stared at Legolas, who stood with his mouth open. "Legolas," he chided, "you had better hope that Erestor doesn't find you looking like that, with your mouth agape like a witless Troll. He will read you a lecture on deportment that will make the Silmarillion seem brief!"

Legolas quickly closed his mouth, but he shook his head in reply to Elladan's queries as to what had startled him so. "Never you mind, Elladan. Arwen was merely being antic, is all."

"Antic?" queried Elladan. "I would have expected her to have returned from Lothlórien all grown up. You make it sound as if she is still a mere child."

"I assure you," muttered Legolas, "that she is no child!"

Legolas' reflections were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Figwit. Both Legolas and Elladan took a step back and eyed him warily. How, they wondered, could such an elegant looking Elf be so clumsy? That is why Elrond employed him as a messenger, to keep him out of the Hall as much as possible and thereby preserve the furnishings.

"Prince Legolas," Figwit said, "you are wanted in Lord Elrond's study."

Legolas grimaced. Several years had passed since his identity as the Prince of Mirkwood had become generally known, but he was still not accustomed to being addressed as 'Prince Legolas'. Elladan grinned at him, for he knew what his foster-brother was thinking. "O Prince," he intoned solemnly, "no doubt you have been summoned for some grave matter of state. Pray do not allow me to detain you from your mission." Legolas pretended to scowl and then strode swiftly from the room. Elrond claimed both his respect and his affection, and he did not wish to keep the elf-lord waiting.

"Enter," came a voice when the young Elf knocked upon the door of Elrond's study. It was not Elrond's voice, however, and Legolas smiled, for he recognized the voice. He also recognized an accompanying aroma that was not one associated with an elf-lord. He turned the handle of the door, and a cloud of smoke billowed forth. "Mithrandir," Legolas called, pretending not to see the wizard veiled by the tendrils of smoke.

"Something wrong with those vaunted elf-eyes of yours?" chaffed Mithrandir, removing the pipe from his mouth. He sat comfortably in the corner, his chair tilted back, his feet upon a hassock.

Legolas settled himself upon a nearby bench. "Elrond is going to be put out when he finds his chamber filled with fumes," he pointed out. In reply, Mithrandir returned the pipe stem to his mouth and puffed furiously. When he removed it, he looked satisfied with himself. "I have endured Elrond's sanctimonious sanctions for centuries," he declared smugly.

Just then the door was flung open, and Elrond strode in and commenced his own sort of fuming. "Mithrandir!" he expostulated. "Have I not asked you to refrain from that foul habit whilst within? Yet when I return from a brief errand, I find the rafters wreathed in smoke!"

The elf-lord raised his hand and gestured commandingly. A breeze sprung up, Gandalf's pipe went out, and the room was swept clear of vapors. Legolas was impressed. Elrond rarely made use of Vilya, the Ring of Air. The elf-lord had always said that a Ring of Power was not to be used lightly but that its powers were to be husbanded, to be called upon when the need was great.

Apparently Mithrandir was impressed as well. Meekly he returned his pipe to its pouch. He lifted his feet from the hassock and sat up straight.

"I did not know that you were in Rivendell," Legolas said lightly, seeking to smooth over the disagreement between his two elders.

"I have just returned from a visit to Lothlórien," replied the wizard.

"And is all well in the Golden Wood?" asked Legolas.

"Quite well. Haldir and his brothers send you their greetings. Rúmil asks when you will return to answer his challenge—whatever he meant by that, I do not know."

"Oh, he has been bragging that he traveled fifteen leagues, leaping from tree to tree, without ever setting foot on ground. I told him that that was a piffling distance, that I had once eluded Orcs for over twenty-five leagues by traveling in such a fashion. I agreed to race him through the treetops over a course of thirty leagues to see who would go the furthest and the fastest without descending to the forest floor."

"By your account, then," Elrond observed sardonically, "it took you twenty-five leagues to shake off Orcs even though you were aloft and therefore presumably had the advantage."

Legolas colored. It had not occurred to him to look at it from that point of view, but now that Elrond had drawn it to his attention, he saw that his pride in his exploit had been unwarranted.

"You are right, Elrond," he said humbly. "I was wrong to brag to Rúmil, and I shall tell him so the next time I see him."

"Which will be very soon indeed," said Elrond, who now smiled, his good humor having been at once restored by his foster-son's frank admission. "I have been casting about for a way to show my gratitude to Celeborn and Galadriel for the care that they lavished upon Arwen during the years that she dwelt with them. When the goblets were unpacked and I discovered anew their beauty, I determined that a set would be made for the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. The glassblowers have completed that task, and I have chosen you to be their bearer."

Legolas cheered up as quickly as Elrond had, partly because he was happy to be back in Elrond's good graces, partly because he was always delighted at the prospect of a stay in Lothlórien. The mere beauty of the place entranced him; to that was added the pleasure to be had in the company of Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin.

Elrond caught the look of glee upon the young Elf's face and at once the elf-lord assumed a sober demeanor. "Whilst in Lórien you will of course," he said sternly, "comport yourself in a fashion that will redound to the credit of both your fathers. You must always be mindful that you represent not only Imladris but Mirkwood.

"Of course," Legolas replied in his smoothest voice, masking his glee with a bland expression. Mithrandir chuckled at the young Elf's attempt at counterfeiting calmness. "Are you sure, Elrond," he said, "that you wish to trust him with this errand? At the very least, hadn't you better send some one along to keep an eye on him?"

"Are you volunteering?" Elrond asked sardonically.

"Certainly not!" exclaimed Mithrandir. "I have just arrived from Lothlórien. I have no intention of turning about and retracing my steps. No, I mean to travel on to the Shire. I want to check in on the welfare of an old friend."

"Well," said Elrond thoughtfully, "I can't send Elladan and Elrohir. They are departing on patrol tomorrow. Ah, I have it! I shall send Estel. That way I shall keep not only Legolas out of mischief but Estel as well. I have been casting about for a way to keep the lad occupied and out of trouble."

"Indeed?" said Mithrandir, pretending innocence. "Whatever sort of trouble could our innocent Estel be getting into?"

Elrond stared balefully at the wizard as Legolas looked away, careful to maintain a neutral expression. The young Elf was well aware that Elrond and Mithrandir disagreed on the matter of Aragorn and Arwen. Mithrandir opined that it was all to the good that the two cousins, both descended from Eärendil the Mariner, should reunite the elven and edain branches of the family. Elrond, on the other hand, could not but be distressed at the prospect of losing his daughter—for that would be the inevitable outcome of a liaison between Aragorn and Arwen. Arwen was Peredhil, like her father, and would face the same choice that he had upon a time: to depart with her elven kin to the Undying Lands or to mingle her bones with the earth of Arda. If she espoused Aragorn, she would be choosing the latter, but her father had long ago chosen the former.

After several uncomfortable moments, Elrond cleared his throat and addressed Legolas. "Mithrandir tells me that the mountain passes have been dodgy these past several months, and therefore you and Estel are not to attempt a crossing. Instead, you shall travel by boat down the Bruinen until you reach the southernmost of its eastern tributaries. That branch is slow moving for much of its length, so in it you may paddle upstream until you reach the foothills of the Misty Mountains. Then you can take to your feet and pass through the Gap of Rohan, skirting the southernmost fringe of Fangorn Forest until turning north for the final leg of your journey."

"We are not to go on horseback?"

"No, I think the goblets are less likely to be broken if you go by boat. I plan to have them well-wrapped and packed into a crate for the most of the journey. Only when you take to land will you divide the goblets between you. Since you will be close to Lothlórien by then, you will not be carrying much in the way of provisions and can easily bear such a burden."

Legolas nodded. "Very well, Ada," he said, unconsciously falling back into the habit of addressing Elrond as 'Papa', as he done so during the long years of his fosterage. Elrond smiled fondly upon him. Even though Thranduil had reclaimed Legolas as his own, Elrond had never ceased thinking of the young Elf as his son. At the moment, Elrond's protective stance toward his foster son—his foster sons, really, for the dispute involved Estel as well—was a sore point between elf-lord and wizard. Mithrandir had repeatedly hinted that Legolas would be called upon to play a role in a Great Quest, as would Aragorn. Elrond knew that every time Mithrandir went on 'quest', trouble ensued, so he was averse to hearing that Legolas and Aragorn were destined to go on such a journey.

Legolas was unaware of this dispute between Elrond and Mithrandir. Truly, though, so many were the bones of contention continually picked over by elf-lord and wizard that the Mirkwood Elf would have paid little attention to this particular quarrel even if he had been aware of it. Later, however, he would come to hear of it.

This day, though, Legolas was thinking only of the upcoming journey. After Elrond dismissed him, the young Elf went straight to the stables, for it was evening and he knew that Aragorn would be seeing to his stallion. 'Estel will be disappointed when he learns that we must travel by boat rather than by horse', Legolas thought to himself. 'Sometimes I think he would sleep astride his horse if he could'. In truth, even though Aragorn did not sleep on his horse, he was known to sleep by his steed. Soon after Estel's upbringing had been entrusted to Elrond, the elf-lord had learned that the stable was the first place to check if the lad vanished during the night. There the youngster would be found wrapped in a saddle blanket upon hay mounded up in the stall set aside for his pony. Elrond had to admit, though, that in some ways Estel's choice of sleeping accommodations was preferable to that of Legolas. After all, the stable was a short distance from the Main Hall, and the way to it was in part sheltered by covered walkways. Whenever Legolas had absconded, however, he had taken to the forest, settling himself high upon a tree limb. He had been much harder to find, and the unfortunate assigned the task (Glorfindel, usually) had been exposed to the elements.

Legolas reached the stable, and as he had expected, Aragorn was within, applying a pick to his horse's hooves. "Estel," called Legolas, "we are to journey to Lothlórien." Aragorn looked up and smiled. "Lothlórien? That is good. But first I shall need to see to the repair of my horse's harness. Several straps are well worn."

Legolas shook his head. "The harness can be repaired in your absence. We are going by boat."

Aragorn looked disappointed, as Legolas had expected he would, but the young Man recovered quickly. Aragorn loved the Golden Wood, not the least because for so long it had been the home of Arwen. And Aragorn, like Legolas, enjoyed gallivanting through Lórien in company with Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin, although, as the Lórien brothers aged, they spent more time guarding the border and less time in play.

A fortnight later, Aragorn and Legolas pushed their boat into the icy waters of the Bruinen. On the near bank, Arwen and Elrond waved farewell, and as the boat passed under a bridge, Mithrandir leaned over the parapet and shouted his good wishes. The wizard was crossing over to the far shore to set out on his journey to the Shire.

Their friends receded into the distance as the young Elf and young Man put their backs into paddling. They could have floated at their leisure, but they had agreed to paddle for all they were worth. "If we reach Lórien more quickly than Elrond anticipates," Legolas had pointed out, "we can linger in that place for several days and still return to Imladris within the time allotted for our journey."

So eager were the two young travelers to arrive at their destination that they decided to run the rapids that interrupted the river at several points. The goblets had been very carefully packed, each cushioned by several layers of thick cloth, and the crate was lashed down so it would not shift and throw the boat off balance. Given the care that had been lavished on securing their cargo, Aragorn and Legolas were confident that the stemware would come to no harm if they ran the rapids instead of portaging them.

The first two rapids were small ones, and the young travelers ran them laughing, exhilarated as they careened past boulders, the spray covering them with a fine mist. As they approached the third rapid, however, they saw that its waters were more turbulent than the first two. Momentarily, they held back their boat with their paddles, debating whether they ought to draw their vessel from the water and carry it around the obstacle.

"We can run this channel," Aragorn argued.

"The water course is narrower here, Estel," Legolas replied, "and so the current moves more rapidly. Let us portage. There will be many other rapids to run further downstream."

But Aragorn was in high spirits and desired to test himself against the worst that the river had to offer. At last, smiling wryly, Legolas gave way. It was a decision lightly taken; the results, however, would be far from lightsome.