CHAPTER TEN
Elrond was seated at his desk and working steadily on a draft of the communication to be sent to King Thranduil when, not long after dark, his son Elladan staggered into the library, only to collapse into a chair before the desk.
Arching an eyebrow, Elrond addressed his most urgent concern first. "Are you bleeding anywhere?"
"No - no," the Elf gasped. "Lasgalen was careful about that, but little else. Just let me catch my breath, Adar."
Setting aside his notes, Elrond leaned back and waited patiently for the report to come. In the meantime, his healer's gaze assessed the rumpled, tumbled state of the one before him. [I see smudges there, there, and there that might be bruises. And there is dirt and mud on his leggings, which tell me he got the short end of some battle or other.]
"Where is your brother?" Elrond suddenly demanded.
"Outside." Elladan panted. "With Lasgalen. Don't worry, Elrohir isn't bleeding, either. But that fact owes more to Lasgalen's skills than to any my brother might possess. Father, where did you find him?"
"Elrohir? He was born a few minutes after you, as I recall."
"Gaah!" Elladan protested. "Seriously, Lasgalen can't be from Lothlorian, Haldir can't have trained him. He has none of Haldir's flaws, and he showed us a few tricks I've never seen before and hope I never see again."
Hiding a smile, Elrond set aside parchment and quill. "My son, Lasgalen hails from Mirkwood."
Total silence met that announcement for a long moment before storm-flashed, obstinate blue eyes met his. "You cannot be serious, Adar. Tell me Lasgalen is from Gondolin. Lie if you must."
Elrond merely shook his head.
Sitting bolt upright, Elladan gestured outside, back the way he had come. "Thranduil's minions trained THAT?"
"You have a problem with this?" Elrond asked. "Is Lasgalen so unworthy, then, to travel with the two of you?"
"Unworthy? You mean to tell me that you didn't know what he was capable of?"
Elrond silently shook his head. "That is why I asked you to test him."
"Good." Elladan slouched back down in the chair. "I feared Elrohir and I had offended you in some way, that you should set such a whirlwind upon us, unwarned." Narrowing his gaze, he spread his legs before him and steepled his fingers in a gesture very much like his father's. "You asked my dear brother and I to test him, did you not? Well, then, let me tell you what happened. First of all, the reason Elrohir isn't in here is because he's still out there licking his wounds."
Elrond couldn't help it; he laughed at the thought of his proud son being bested by someone fifty years younger. "It would seem that everyone did my bidding today, for I also asked Lasgalen to test the two of you."
"Test us? Oh yes, he tested us. We came at him hard and fast and together - attacked him on two sides at once, thinking he was easy prey and we'd finish early on. Your fighter from Mirkwood dropped and rolled to evade us, drew his knives, spun and slashed and routed us. Both of us. Without panic or fear, with nerves of mithral and a wicked technique that's beauty itself to behold--as long as he's not coming at you. Wherever we were, there he was not. As soon as Elrohir swallows his pride, I'm sure he'll be asking to see some of those moves in a much slower, less threatening manner."
Elrond smiled. "So, what you are saying is that this child of Mirkwood can fight."
"As much as it pains me to do so - yes."
"And you'll take him with you when next you go out, should he find you worthy of his companionship?"
"Find us worthy?" Elladan protested. "I hope that we didn't give a showing as bad as all that. From from what I can see, Lasgalen's not conceited about his abilities. In fact, your Mirkwood warrior is nearly as silent as my brother. But he did help Elrohir up from the dirt. Lasgalen even asked after his welfare."
"Did he help you down into the mud as well, as the stainwork on your leggings suggests?" Elrond asked.
"Once or twice," Elrohir admitted sheepishly. "Any road, Lasgalen helped up Elrohir and challenged us next to an archery competition. We're fairly square on that. He doesn't like swordwork much and prefers the shorter, faster blades, though he is competent with a heavier weapon, which means Elrohir and I are the better side of even on that one. It's just with the knives that he buries the two of us."
Elrond nodded, satisfied with the assessment. "Lasgalen is smaller and faster."
"Much faster when he wants to be," came the wry admission.
"Given MIrkwood's numerous enemies, I would imagine Lasgalen has had more experience in knifework. Learn from him, if you can."
"We can and will. He's already agreed to go with us when we leave. Is that what you wanted?"
Elrond rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's not so much what I want as what he needs, my son. Lasgalen is a free soul. To cage him within these walls would be to kill him."
"Cage him?" Elladan frowned. "I don't understand. Isn't he a free agent, to come and go as he pleases?"
Elrond drew a deep breath. "I suppose you should know the truth of it, if you're going to travel with him and protect one another."
Beckoning his son closer, Elrond waited until Elladan had come to sit on the corner of his desk, had leaned over so that whatever confidence was to come could not be caught by other, ever-listening Elven ears.
"What I have to tell you now is in confidence, at least until Lasgalen wishes it otherwise. Yes, he is of Mirkwood. He is also Thranduil's son, come from there to join with me in a marriage alliance."
Elladan's eyes grew wide. Elrond hadn't seen him look so surprised since the moment his mother, Celebrian, had introduced him to the wrinkled, screaming babe that was his new sister, Arwen.
"His real name is Legolas," Elrond continued, "and yes, he is indeed the younger prince of Mirkwood."
"Thranduil's son just wiped the forest floor with my brother?"
"It would seem so."
Elladan considered this news silently for a few moments, then asked, almost desperately, "Are you certain he's Thranduil's son, Adar? Really certain?"
Elrond laughed in answer to his son's dismay.
"You know," Elladan said slowly, "I've as much love for the king as you do. It's a good thing this prince of Mirkwood fights as he does because it would stick in my craw if I had to protect him. I'll run with him in the wilds, but I refuse to mind him as I would some bumbler."
Elrond laughed. "Walk softly, my son. I have known my prince only for a few short days, and yet I think I can safely venture that it was probably a pleasure for him to wipe the dirt with you and your brother--especially as I'm sure you made it obvious you thought he was easy prey. Legolas is no delicate flower to bloom only in court. In fact, he seems as unlike his sire as are straw and gold."
"Thank the Valar for that. If he were like Thranduil, Elrohir and I would have to strongly consider widening our patrols. But why don't you want to keep him here?" Elladan asked. "Surely, if he's the one you're to bond with, Legolas is supposed to be with you and not with us?"
"He had a difficult month preceding his arrival in Imladris," Elrond said carefully, not wanting to reveal how reluctant his prince was to stay anywhere near him. "Legolas needs to travel freely, to recover himself. He's used to guarding the borders of Mirkwood and Mithrandir was sending him into Dol Guldur, so he is not untried."
"Dol Guldur?" he breathed. If anything, Elladan's eyes widened more.
"Don't get any ideas of haring off in that direction," Elrond warned. "The Dark One's keep is specifically off limits to all three of you, as is Mirkwood. I'll threaten you all you with certain death, should you go anywhere near that Valar-forsaken place. All I want is for you and Elrohir to run Legolas out into the surrounding woods for a few days. Let him focus his frustrations and settle his energy by killing orcs, but don't let anything happen to him or cross any borders with him. He has run with the Rangers along his own borders, so that they know who he is. You must not let them see him, and you must not take him beyond our immediate area this first trip. Do I make myself clear?"
"As always, Father. But why would he rather run with us than be with you, even in these early days when your knowing each other is so new?" Elladan pursued.
"We are taking our time coming to know each other, and he is taking his time coming to know Imladris. The people do not yet know that he is Thranduil's son, come to bond with me. They know him only as Lasgalen and think him an advance scout from Mirkwood. That is as we wish it today."
"As you will, Father," Elladan said with some bewilderment. "You know we will honor your requests, however strange we may find them."
"It is very important that you bring him safely back to me," Elrond insisted. "Don't let his superior knifework cause any rivalry between the three of you. You've other skills in common, so let Legolas lead in that, and let him teach you. I daresay that you and Elrohir will find ways of teaching him as well."
"Are we intruding?" a soft voice spoke from the doorway.
Elrond and his son looked up as Elrohir stomped into the library, flung down his bow, and inspected a tear in his tunic. Behind him followed a more sedate Legolas, who carried his bow on his back and looked as relaxed and unsullied as he had when he'd joined Elrond upon the stair earlier in the day.
"No, Lasgalen, you are not. Elrohir, are you all right?"
"Mmphm." Not bothering to look up, the twin in question continued plucking at his tunic.
"I think I only scratched him," Legolas said apologetically, "but he will not let me see. Will you look at it, Elrond?"
"No, don't!" Elrohir growled, slapping a hand over the hurt. His blue eyes flashed at Legolas, who somehow managed to look both apologetic and unrepentant.
"I'll convince him to let me see it later," Elrond smoothed over the moment and rose from his desk. Elladan slipped off of the corner and and stood beside his father. "Lasgalen, your lungs must be well-healed if you can hold your own against my sons this afternoon. You seem well able to take care of yourself, and to guard my sons' backs as well. Do you then wish to travel for a few days with them, outside of Imladris?"
Legolas's sudden smile revealed neat white teeth and a dimple on the right Elrond had never seen before. "I would welcome the opportunity, my lord."
"So be it. I take it that the two of you are agreeable to this adventure as well?" He turned his attention on his sons.
"Yes," Elrohir offered immediately.
A glance at the older twin told Elrond that Elladan wasn't yet through staring at the newcomer from Mirkwood. Stifling a smile to note that his son was having the exact same reaction to Legolas that his father had days before, Elrond gripped his son's shoulder.
"Elladan, what of you? Are you agreeable?"
The Elf started at the sound of his name, his attention snapping back to the discussion at hand. "Ah, yes, Father. I think we can manage to keep him out of trouble."
Elrond nodded. "You three will leave tomorrow morning to see if you can travel together without injuring one another. There are a few ground rules I wish to make known to ensure everyone's safety. Shall we discuss them over supper?"
Two 'Yes, Father's' were his, along with a 'Yes, Elrond,' which somehow warmed his heart. [Gone is his formality,] Elrond noted, [at least for the moment. The freedom of familiar weapons in his hands on the training grounds seems to have done a bit toward settling his anxieties, and he also seems more relaxed in my presence with the twins nearby.]
Under Elrond's observant gaze, Legolas willingly went in to supper for the first time in the Great Hall. The smell of food, the sound of music and Elven laughter embraced them.
Legolas moved closer to Elrond and glanced up at him as they crossed the threshold. "You've moved the horses and reclaimed the hall, then?"
"Indeed, yes." A hand at Legolas's elbow guided him forward to the table long assigned Elrond and his guests. "A much-recovered Assassin is enjoying his new, larger stall this evening. I'm afraid, however, that the Seal of the House of Elrond no longer guards his door." Elrond directed him to sit between him and his sons. "Take the seat on my right, Lasgalen, if you please."
"It's about time you got here," Glorfindel grumbled, passing the wine down the table to the newcomers.
"Have you kept back any for us, or have you drank it all?" Elladan demanded, peering with one eye into the black depths of the stone carafe with great suspicion.
"Easy enough to find out." Snatching the carafe from his brother, Elrohir upended it into a nearby mug. A few drizzles of liquid came out, but nothing more.
Legolas laughed outright at the scowl Elrohir bestowed on Glorfindel, who had the grace to look sheepish as he called for more wine. Elrond absorbed the sound of that laughter, hearing it run free and uninhibited for the first time.
"There's always water," Legolas said mildly, which remark led to much protestation and debate under Elrond's watchful eye.
Sitting back, the younger Elf dove into the plate of food set before him. Outside of a few anxious glances cast at the other, resident Elves who had already begun feasting, he seemed determined to ignore those in the hall who watched with benign curiosity. The conversation flowed well that night once the wine was delivered, and Elrond let his children and his prince lead in planning their trip. More than once, Legolas caught and held Elrond's gaze, with his blue eyes revealing gratitude and anticipation of the coming foray.
They talked long into the night, with Glorfindel deserting them early on for more music and much dancing in the Hall of Fire as a small celebration of the horses' departure was taking place. The candles had burned low and moonlight spilled into the hall when the twins finally bid their father good-night and left Elrond with Legolas, who seemed somehow reluctant to leave their father's side until Elrond himself had retired.
"Have you found something that makes you happy?" Elrond asked after the twins had drained the last of their wine and took their leave of the now-deserted Great Hall.
"I believe so, thanks to your kindness and generosity."
Burning logs collapsed to decaying embers in the fireplace across the room, drawing Legolas's attention as sparks flew up the chimney. His hair glowed in the moonlight, and Elrond impulsively reached out to run a hand down its length. He did it only once, and, much to Elrond's surprise, Legolas allowed the contact. Abandoning his interest in the fire, he looked mildly back at his host but did not tense at the touch.
"I know something else that should ensure your happiness," said the Elf-lord, daring to smooth down that golden cascade of hair once more. "Your bedchamber was finished today, and so its secluded privacy awaits whenever you wish."
"Then you do not wish my presence in your bed this night?" Almost, the Elf's tone was teasing, but Elrond could hear the sudden tension behind the question.
Seeking and finding the end of a fine braid, Elrond shook his head. "Not unless and until it is where you wish to be, my prince. Ah, there is one more thing I almost forgot."
Catching Legolas's wounded hand, Elrond ignored the stiffening of muscles and the catch in the Elf's breathing. Carefully untying the bandage, Elrond inspected the branded seal in the skin beneath. "As I thought, the wound has suffered no further with your using the hand in conflict today. Be gentle with it as far as you can, and take the oils and extra bandages in case you need them. I will trust to Elbereth that you will not."
"I will be fine. You needn't worry."
Smoothing over the brand that was very near to healed now, Elrond tried to push aside the distress he felt that, starting tomorrow, Legolas would be out of reach of his care.
"I worry for all of those I care for," he said softly, ever mindful of the servants standing by just outside the doors as the lord they served was still in the Great Hall. "I will leave you with the blessing Gil-Galad bestowed upon me each time we parted for battle, Lasgalen. 'May the light of Elbereth guard you, and may her love guide you until she brings you back to me.'"
A final caress, and Elrond left Legolas alone in the Great Hall before journeying to the stables to check on Assassin, who really needed no checking as he was far out of danger now. When finally Elrond retreated to his private chambers, he moved silently, impulsively to open the door connecting his rooms with Legolas's.
Moonlight fell across the bed sheltering the younger Elf, and Elrond was relieved to see the glittering golden hair spilled across the pillows. Just before dawn, Elladan and Elrohir would steal him away without a farewell, as was their wont. Good-byes were not to be had, not since their mother had permanently said good-bye. Foolishly and in superstition perhaps, father and sons had promised to never say good-bye, as if in its avoidance any lasting farewell or death 'somewhere out there' could be averted.
Legolas had been drawn into the circle of their family now, so that there would be no good-byes for him either. The last Elrond would look upon his prince was in this moment, while he lay sleeping. If only for this night, all was right in Elrond's world; Legolas was happy and safe and sleeping peacefully only a few steps away.
Settling carefully on the bed, Elrond chanced waking Legolas to once more give in to the impulse to stroke the golden strands spread out before him. The Elf sighed softly in his sleep, and Elrond dared to stroke his fingers lightly across Legolas's temple, to smooth the fine hair away from his forehead.
After many minutes and with an effort, Elrond rose from the bed and turned to make his way back into his own chamber, which seemed somehow empty and lonely this night. The Mirkwood prince had made himself a home already in Elrond's heart, a fact the Elf-lord acknowledged with a heavy sigh. Settling into his chair before the fire, Elrond let his mind drift long into the night and contemplated how the slender, golden warrior had so thoroughly invaded his life and had come to matter so much to him in so short a time.