Authors Note: haven't written anything on this story for ages and suddenly was compelled to! Hope someone out there can remember it.
Legolas could not get away from Fingolfin and Galadriel fast enough. Basically—even he had to admit—what he was doing was running.
That conversation had been such a disaster from start to finish, when he got hold of Gimli...heads would roll. Gimli's head, Gimli's little dwarven head to be exact.
But running away in the middle of a crowded hall had some draw backs. One of which was tripping over while trying to avoid the legions of high ranking elves, somersaulting dramatically, before crashing into the legs of one of them. A very tall, very fierce, very gorgeous—he couldn't help noticing—very intimidating Noldo. The next thing he knew he was dangling in the air, held by the scuff of his neck.
"What do you think you are doing?"
He flinched in the face of the Noldo's ire . . . At the same time noticing just how supremely beautiful his hair was. Just the right shade of red, with golden lights in it . . . Very distracting.
Then Legolas found himself sitting back on the ground where he had been rudely deposited, dropped from a height. And it hurt!
"Nelyo!" A darker haired elf, silver ribbons threaded through his ebony locks appeared from nowhere. Was he auditioning for a pantomime? Legolas wondered, then chastised himself. What a bizarre thought. The stress was getting to him. He rubbed his elbow which was stinging badly . . . Simply to give himself something to do.
"Nelyo, he is a Sindar . . . Remember Doriath!"
For a brief moment he thought they meant to slaughter him, as the Noldor had slaughtered his forebears. Surely not here—in public—but then . . . Why not?
But it seemed not.
"I am sorry!" The redhead looked at him in total horror. "I did not mean it. You took me by surprise. Sorry, sorry, sorry. It always happens, Fin." He looked towards the beribboned elf." With the Sindar, it always goes wrong!"
He patted Legolas down in a panic. Exclaiming in despair when he found the blood seeping through his tunic from his elbow.
"Oh no! You are hurt! I will get a healer."
"I do not need a healer." Legolas protested in astonishment. "It is only a graze."
"Humour him, please." The darkhaired elf leaned towards Legolas to whisper in his ear. "He feels so badly about Doriath . . . If you would just let him mother you a bit . . . "
And suddenly the pieces all fell into place. Nelyo . . . Doriath . . . The red hair . . .
Legolas reared back in horror. This was Maedhros Feanorian! The one who ordered the slaughter of his people.
"Get off me!" He threw his hands out to ward of the Noldo, "You killed my people. Get off!"
Why had Elrohir not told him Feanorians would be here? Legolas would never have come if he knew that.
But Maedhros looked so despairing at his rejection he almost felt sorry for him.
"I didn't mean it. You don't understand, it was my brothers. They were always uncontrollable and Findekano was dead. It was all too much."
"There, there, Nelyo." The elf who could only be Fingon, Legolas realised, patted Maedhros' arm reassuringly. "Come sit with us please," he pleaded with Legolas, "Let Nelyo make this up to you. He will not hurt you, I promise."
Legolas had no choice in the end. They were both much bigger and stronger than him, Fingon kept a death grip on his arm, and who was going to pick a fight with Fingon the valiant? Not Legolas, that's for sure. And so he found himself seated at a table, Maedhros Feanorian on one side still worrying about his elbow and Fingon on the other making sure he didn't run.
"Why are you here little Sindar?" Maedhros asked him, "and what shall we call you?"
But Legolas wasn't in the mood for chitchat. He just wanted to be out of this madhouse. He just wanted Elrohir!
"I am looking for Elrohir." If this Noldo wanted to make things better for him, finding Elrohir would be a good start.
"Who?" Maedhros frowned, "Do I know him?" He asked Fingon.
"Elrond's boy." Fingon said enthusiastically. "You met him earlier remember Nelyo. There were two of them...just the same."
"Twins, Findekáno. They are called twins." Legolas wondered if he could just slip away while the two of them carried out this bizarre conversation. "But I do not know where he is," Maedhros turned back to him and it was too late. "What is he doing bringing you here? Has the boy got no sense? Doesn't he know this is a dangerous place for a Sindar? So many Noldor here. He needs to look after you better."
"He does look after me." Legolas sighed, "but I lost him and cannot find him."
"That's just not good enough. I will have stern words with him when I next see him. " Maedhros lit up with a smile then and it was brilliant, it lit up the room. And even Legolas was impressed. So impressed he almost missed Maedhros' next words.
"Perhaps I should adopt him, Fin? This little Sindar. I can make up for the whole Doriath mess. Look after him properly since this son of Elrond's is positively negligent."
"You cannot just go around adopting people Nelyo, even Sindar. He belongs to somebody else."
"I already have a father!" Legolas chimed in. He wasn't about to let himself be adopted by a Feanorian, his father would have a fit...just where was Elrohir?
"We adopted Elrond and Elros. They had a father." Meadhros was ignoring both of them.
"That was different. Their father wasn't exactly on the scene was he Nelyo."
"And neither is this little Sindar's. Where is his father...letting him wander round unsupervised at night? Why is he not here?"
"He was not invited!" Legolas cried. "I have a perfectly good father. I am not available for adopting."
"Well if you say so."
Legolas watched aghast as Maedhros fell into what looked remarkably like a sulk.
It was Fingon who intervened once again.
"Think of something else you can do for him, Nelyo. Something more achievable. Is there anything you need? " he asked Legolas, "Anything we can get you?"
"I am cold." It was the first thing into his mind and it was true. These two had tucked themselves away into a very dark corner of the room and Legolas was freezing. "A fire would not go astray."
He almost fell off his chair when Fingon leapt to his feet.
"No fire! We do not do fire!"
"It's winter," To say Legolas was confused was an understatement. "And cold. Everyone does fire in the winter otherwise how do you keep warm?"
"Clothes." Fingon said adamantly, "lots of clothes...and no fire!"
"If you don't want to light one," Legolas waved an arm towards the nearest empty hearth, "then I will for you, or perhaps we can go to that one over there." A group was seated on the other side of the room in front of a roaring fire and he was being to be insanely jealous as the cold chilled his bones.
"I am not going near those flames!" Fingon hissed. "They burn, and just...I am not!"
"They only burn if you touch them." Fingon had, up until this point, seemed quite reasonable so Legolas was rather taken aback by this unexpected fire situation.
Maedhros leaned in and placed a hand on his shoulder causing Legolas to jump a mile high. He was rather afraid the Feanorian might kidnap him after all the adoption talk.
"Don't push it." Maedhros whispered. "We neither of us are keen on the flames, but Fingon especially so. He knows the feeling of burning too well."
Another two people who were a sandwich short of a picnic, Legolas thought. Was anyone normal here? And he began to worry. Perhaps is was a genetic problem? A weakness in the genes. They all were a bit inbred after all. Perhaps this was Elrohir's fate as well...to eventually be stark raving mad? Although he seemed quite normal at the moment.
He wondered who he could possibly ask about this without causing offence?
Meanwhile Maedhros was trying to convince Fingon there was no way the flames could reach him from the far side of the room and fighting a losing battle. Legolas could see Fingon would eventually have to end up outside with that mad Finrod and Turgon to feel safe. How did they all live like this? And Fingolfin had said Fingon was normal. Did he just not notice the extreme fire phobia?
Still Legolas saw his chance and began to back ever so carefully away. Slowly, slowly, slowly he edged further and further into the crowd until finally he was sure they could no longer see him. He was well hidden amongst the others when he called Maedhros exclaim loudly,
"Little Sindar! Where is he Fin? I have lost him! Oh, I am as bad as his own father, letting him wander. I told you I was hopeless with the Sindar."
He sounded so sad, so mournful that Legolas nearly turned around and went back.
Nearly...but not quite. He was not that stupid.
