9. Toil and Trouble
"You have not told her?" Haldir's hands were balled into fists and there was an anxiousness in his stance. Silivren's eyes narrowed and she leaned around the marchwarden to peer past the hedge. Arwen sat on a blanket beside the pond, her needlepoint forgotten as she watched a butterfly flitting from flower to flower.
"Of course I did not tell her," the silvery haired elleth hissed barely above a whisper. "Have you lost your senses? What was I to say? 'My Lady, Haldir sends his regards. I happened to see him today while he was trying to stitch the heir of Isildur back together'? You must think me mad!"
"I am sorry Silverin," he said with a sigh, rubbing his face in obvious exhaustion. "Keeping this secret has brought me to the end of my tether."
"How did he get here?" she asked in wonder, keeping a nervous eye on the elleth by the pond. "He looks like something a troll trampled."
"I have no idea," Haldir shook his head. "Trust me, he looked much worse when he arrived."
"Clearly the rumors of human frailty are exaggerated," Silverin stated with a worried frown. "What are you going to tell her?"
"I had rather hoped Aragorn might tell her himself," Haldir answered, heaving a sigh as he squared his shoulders and stepped out into the path.
"How did someone with your inability to form a good plan ever become marchwarden of Lorien?" Silverin murmured to herself, shaking her head.
"You seem pensive," Haldir said, kneeling at the water's edge. Arwen's head turned, greeting him with a welcoming smile that did not reach her eyes.
"I have had a letter from Erestor," she said with a sigh, staring at the parchment in her hand. "Indelin has taken over a chief healer and Eirien forced Ada to finally let them recatalogue the library."
"Erestor must be delighted," he stated with an amused smirk. She nodded.
"He says that he has found two missing histories and and entire case of letters from the first age they did not even know they had." Arwen replied. "And despite the fact that my dear brothers both appear to be quite brow beaten by their wives they swear they could not be happier." She bit her lip, her eyes watering and he took her hand.
"Did he have some ill news?" the marchwarden asked as she hastily brushed at the tears that began to fall.
"It is always what he does not say that troubles me," she answered, forcing a smile. "They still have had no word."
"Undomiel..." he was not at all sure what to say but she shook her head, silencing him.
"It is so good of you to look in on me," she said, rubbing his arm affectionately as she blinked back tears. "Can you sit with me a while?"
"So long as you can bear my company," he answered jestingly, earning a small smile from her as he settled on the blanket beside her.
"You are a good friend," she shook her head, jostling his shoulder playfully with her own. "I am not sure I would do so well to cheer you if our situations were reversed."
"Why," the marchwarden asked, his curiosity overcoming him. "If you were the one who loved me and I was the one who sat by the pond with a melancholy face what should you do differently?"
"I should get my horse, sweep you up and carry you off to my fortress hidden deep within the wood," Arwen stated in her most matter-of-fact tone. "And then I would romance you until you were quite powerless to resist me." Haldir gaped at her a moment then burst into laughter. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly but she gave no other indication that she even noticed.
"My lady," Haldir gasped, his sides shaking. "If it would not damage my dignity I would be half tempted to let you try it." She let out the softest giggle, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Are you saying you are too proud to have a mere female dominate you?" she demanded regally.
"I am saying that I would sorely like to see you try it," She let out a rather undignified snort and then dissolved into giggles.
"Maybe I should practice first on Rumil," She suggested, sending him into a fresh fit of laughter. "He is much lighter than you are."
"Aye, and he hasn't any dignity at all." Haldir agreed, his eyes watering as the Evenstar clutched her sides. "Feel free to strap him to the back of your saddle and ride through the city with him."
"Oh can you not just see it?" Arwen demanded, drying her eyes as she gasped for air. "Trussed up like a goose and slung over my horses rump!"
"Stark naked"
"And a large red ribbon on his..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew wide as her face turned crimson. Haldir himself was quite red faced as well with laughter. "Do not dare tell him I said that!"
"Best not to put ideas in his head," Haldir nodded in agreement as he struggled to regain his composure. "He will never give you any peace until you actually do it." Arwen gaped at him a moment before they both burst into laughter again. It was several moments before they could breathe and Arwen let slip a rather girlie sigh before slumping against his shoulder.
"It is not fair," she stated.
"What?" he asked as he slipped an arm around her shoulder.
"I am miserable because the world is unfair and cruel," Arwen said with a sad frown. "And you are miserable because of me."
"You should not say that," Haldir answered gently. "None of us choose love, it chooses us."
"Then it has an ill sense of humor,"
"Perhaps," he agreed. "But if it did not would we be friends?" She seemed to consider this a moment and then shook her head.
"No," Arwen sighed. "I do not suppose we would."
"Then perhaps Love is only half mad after all," Haldir stated with a shrug. The tips of his ears flushed as soft lips brushed his cheek.
"Thank you," Arwen whispered. "For everything." Haldir swallowed around the lump in his throat. If only she knew how much she was truly thanking him for.
"What about this one?" Faeneth asked, tilting her head to the side as she surveyed a soft brown dress. Meril, who had already passed the vendor's stall on the market road doubled back and sighed.
"Absolutely not," she stated firmly, taking Faeneth's hand and tugging her along. They passed several more booths of merchants selling everything from belts to bows and came to another stall. Meril continued walking but Faeneth came up short, jerking her hand free from the other elleth's grasp.
"Oh I love this one!" the courier declared, snatching up a soft mossy green gown with gossamer sleeves. Meril had to admit it was quite a lovely gown.
"Do you have it in another color?" She asked the vendor as Faeneth held it up, admiring the elegant flow of the fabric.
"No, my lady," the merchant shook her head.
"What is wrong with green?" Faeneth asked, her lip protruding ever so slightly.
"Dearest, everything you own is green or brown," Meril replied in exasperation, glaring at the gown as if it were to blame for being the wrong color.
"It suits me," Faeneth objected as Meril took the dress from her.
"Of course it does!" her friend insisted, returning the gown to its peg and leading Faeneth on down the market road. "You are a courier dear, I am sure that anything that would make you harder to see would be very practical. But we are not dealing with orcs we are dealing with elves and the idea is to be as visually detectable as possible."
"I am not so very good at that," Faeneth admitted, her brow knitting in an almost confused expression.
"At least we can agree on that much," Meril sighed. They had reached the very last pavilion on the street, an ornately embroidered affair in the softest white linen with fine mithril threads curling in a mallorn pattern around the flap. Meril tugged it aside, prodding her friend in ahead of her.
"So very good to see you today, lady Meril," An elleth with golden hair appeared, her lips curling in a familiar smile.
"Ah Minuial!" Meril declared brightly. "Good, I'd hoped you would be here today. My friend needs a gown."
"Can I assume this gown is for a special occasion?" Manual asked with a somewhat naughty grin.
"You can assume that it is for a special elf," Meril answered.
"Even better," the seamstress replied turning to Faeneth. "What did you have in mind, my lady?" The courier stared at her a bit blankly for a moment before turning to look at Meril.
"That would be the problem," Meril stated hesitantly, squeezing Faeneth's arm reassuringly. "She is not really sure what she wants."
"Yes I am," Faeneth objected. "I want to go back and get the green dress."
"The one that makes you completely invisible?" Meril asked, arching an elegant brow.
"I never said it was a wise choice," Faeneth conceded. "I said it was what I wanted."
"What about something in red?" Meril suggested, her lips drawing up in a thin exasperated line.
"Red?" Faeneth asked uneasily as the delighted shop keeper began sorting hastily through the gowns that hung on the wall. "I never thought red very flattering on me."
"Do not worry dear," the warden answered, patting her arm. "There will not be enough fabric to worry over it much."
"His name's Elmo," Laurelin held out the jam jar with a wide grin. Aragorn squinted at the bulbous eyes that stared back at him.
"He's a very fine frog," the mortal stated, his brow crinkling just a bit.
"I think so too," the little elleth agreed, peering into the jar at the tree frog.
"Do not dare let him out in here," Aduial warned, carrying a large basket into the bed room. Laurelin twirled the end of the ribbon holding the cloth lid in place with an impish expression but suddenly seemed to think better of it when her sister gave her a warning look.
"I could be wrong but a jar does not seem at all a proper home for a frog," Aragorn pointed out. Laurelin settled on the foot of his bed, holding the jar up at eye level.
"I have to let him go today," the elfling stated seriously. "Either that or I have to catch flies for him and I'm not any good at that."
"Lady Galadriel says that he can have a home in her lilly pond," Aduial added, brushing a kiss on the crown of the elfling's head. "You can visit him every day."
"Whatcha doing?" Laurelin asked, crawling onto her knees to look over her sister's shoulder.
"Lord Aragorn needs his hair trimmed," Aduial answered.
"Are you going to do his nails too?" the elfling asked. Aduial picked up his hand, inspecting it critically a moment.
"Yes," she answered.
"If I take Elmo on the terrace can I let him out to stretch his legs?"
"Not too close to the edge," Aduial replied, smiling as Laurelin scrambled off the end of the bed and out into the sunlight. "Or the door!!"
"You have a charming daughter," Aragorn said as Aduial settled on the side of the bed.
"Oh, she is my sister," Aduial answered, glancing out the terrace door at the tiny elleth who was sprawled on her stomach talking to a frog. "our parents sailed when she was small."
"She's around here quite a fair bit," the mortal observed. "Are you and Haldir..." Aduial let out a laugh.
"Haldir and I have been best friends since I was hardly bigger than Laurelin," the elleth answered as she set to work cleaning the mortal's nails. "This talan once belonged to his parents. I can recall hiding under this very bed with a frog or two of my own. I suppose it is only natural that she would play in all my old haunts."
"You do not need to put in so much effort on my account," Aragorn stated as she massaged cream into his hands.
"You were raised among elves," she said with a smile. "Surely you have had an elleth care for your hands before."
"It has been a while," he admitted.
"I can see that," Aduial quipped, giving some of the harsher calluses a dark look. "Are men incapable of looking out for themselves?" His brow crinkled. That strange, familiar buzzing had begun in the back of his mind again, the sound building to a churning until finally the waves of memory crashed over him.
"Are you completely incapable of caring for yourself?" the stern female voice demanded. His eyes fluttered open and he gazed up into her face, her brow furrowed in obvious worry.
"Finials?" Thorongil murmured, blinking as if the light hurt his eyes. "are you with child?"
"Do you always begin conversations with such inappropriate questions, my lord?" she demanded, though her amusement was obvious.
"Why are you in Umbar?"
"I am not in Umbar," she replied, rubbing his hands. "and neither are you."
"When I fell asleep I was in Umbar," Thorongil insisted.
"Then you should be careful what you drink in Umbar," Finials replied, her mouth quirking in an odd smile. She shook her head. "What were you thinking? Denethor was white as a sheet when Mithrandir brought you home. And I have never seen Lord Ecthelion so terrified. He thinks of you as one of his own."
"Boy or girl?" Thorongil asked curiously.
"He thinks of you as his son you git," she snapped playfully. He let out a laugh that quickly dissolved into a cough and he shook his head, pointing at her faintly protruding belly.
"We do not have the magic of the elves," Finials answered with a happy smile. "I will just have to be surprised."
"May I?" he rasped, her brow knitted and she nodded as he laid his palm over her stomach, closing his eyes. Her expression was curious as his breathing slowed, his brow creasing in a deep frown.
"A girl," he said finally, a smile on his lips. "Denethor will be pleased, you will have one of each."
"You know," she said tilting her head to the side in wonder. "I believe you. How could you know such a thing?"
"The elves know much," Thorongil answered offhandedly. "some of their knowledge they will share." Finials stared at his hand a moment, holding it between her own.
"You were not born in these lands so perhaps you do not know," she began, not meeting his gaze. "but we have a saying about the hands of a healer." She glanced at him through her lashes, her eyes piercing as if they might bore into his very heart.
"I have heard it," he sighed, looking away. His attention drifted to the window. A light wind rustled the curtains and caught the banner on the ramparts, unfurling the white tree against the bight blue of the sky. "put it from your mind, my lady. It is no more than idle talk."
"Lord Aragorn?" Aduial's brow knitted in a frown.
"It's nothing," he sighed. "I'm afraid my mind wanders."
"It is to be expected," she said comfortingly, an impish smile lighting her lips. "You were quite tattered when Haldir brought you in. You called me 'Legolas'. I was a bit affronted until Orophin explained how attractive the prince of Mirkwood was." His cheeks colored as he chuckled.
"Well at least I did not confuse you with Haldir," Aragorn stated, earning an amused smirk from the elleth. He glanced at his hand, watching as she carefully buffed his nails. "Haldir seems changed from when last I saw him. I thought perhaps he had settled."
"Settled has never been a word I would ascribe to Haldir of Lorien," Aduial answered with a soft laugh. "Besides, there is only one elleth who has ever held his heart."
"He hasn't pursued Arwen in these past years has he?" the mortal asked with a mixture of disappointment and faint hope.
"I do not think she can return his feelings," Aduial replied. "And even if there was a chance she might, his sense of loyalty would prevent him."
"Loyalty to whom?" Aragorn questioned. Surely Elrond would not object, or his brothers and all too well he knew that Legolas had no interest in pursuing the Evenstar. He could not fathom who could possibly stand in the march warden's way. His confusion mounted as the elleth began to giggle."
"To you, of course," she replied with a grin.
"You never said anything about boiling orc intestines," Dinendal declared, staring at the small kettle with a repulsed expression.
"It is not orc intestines!" Rumil protested, giving the somewhat gloopy mixture a stir, pausing to glare at his friend who was using his kitchen table as a bench.
"I have carved up enough of the foul things to know what they smell like on the inside," Orophin stated, edging away from the pair with an almost fearful expression. "It is the only thing worse than how they smell on the outside"
"It is not made of Orc!" his brother insisted. "It does not even have meat in it!"
"I am disturbed by the fact that you would even use the words 'orc' and 'meat' together." Din stated flatly, folding his arms over his chest.
"It is torogtal," Rumil said in exasperation.
"I will not let you poison him!" Orophin stated, making to snatch for the kettle. "He is Haldir's friend and he is under the protection of the Lady!"
"It is not poisonous!" Rumil growled, scuffling with his brother as Dinendal watched them both with a more than fair amount of incredulity. "Would you, just this once, listen to me? Ouch!" He cuffed his brother in the shoulder, sending Orophin back a few paces. In one smooth motion he turned, sweeping up the cooking spoon and holding it out as if it were a sword.
"I need new friends," Din observed, shaking his head.
"You are a balrog of the lowest order." Orophin stated, curling his lip as he stared at the dripping spoon warily.
"Would you relax?" Rumil demanded in exasperation, tossing the spoon back into the kettle with a clang. "Do you know the difference between you and I?"
"You are willing to justify any means to reach your goals?" Dinendal asked curiously.
"Din, stop trying to help me," Rumil stated with a glare. "The difference between you and I is that I paid attention in healing classes."
"I knew it was poison," Orophin stated darkly.
"Torogtal is not poisonousness," his brother insisted. Rumil paused a moment, an almost guilty expression forming on his face. "It is just malodorous."
"Is it only me or does he not make any sense at all?" Dinendal asked, his brow crinkling in a confused frown.
"You see," Orophin stated, folding his arms over his chest. "That is your problem. You expect him to make sense."
"Try very hard to pay attention," Rumil growled, grasping his older brother by the collar of his shirt and giving him a firm shake. "Torogtal is completely harmless and is used to treat poisonous bites. But it should never be ingested because it causes terrible body odor." Orophin stared at his brother, blinking several times.
"That is vile," he stated finally.
"Evil," Din agreed.
"Beneath contempt," Orophin nodded. He gave Rumil a rough hug. "I am proud to call you brother."
"That is why Meril says he is the smart one in the family," Din stated smugly, waving a hand at Rumil.
"I am brilliant," Rumil declared with an evil grin.
"I am detecting a flaw in your brilliance," Dinendal said, his brow knitting. "How will we get Aragorn to ingest something so putrid?"
"He does know us," Orophin pointed out.
"That is the beauty of it," Rumil insisted, his grin widening. "It smells much less once it cools and has hardly any taste at all. If mortals have such diminished senses he should not even notice his own vile odor."
"And the Evenstar will not be able to abide the presence of him," Din shook his head in wonder. "And he will not even know why."
"Rumil," Orophin clapped his brother on the shoulder, shaking his head. "You are brilliant."
"I know,"
"Remind me never to make you angry." Dinendal sighed.
Torogtal - Trolls' foot (I made it up, to my knowledge it doesn't really exist.)
Author's note: For anyone who missed it, the reference Arwen makes to a fortress in the wood involves Luthien and Celegorm, son of Feanor, who tried to get a date with her by abducting her and locking her in his fortress. She eventually escaped to rescue her human boyfriend Beren.
Grumpy - he does tend to make things worse for himself with stunning alacrity doesn't he?
PG - You were so kind to offer advice that It's only fair that I return that kindness and offer a proper explanation: My writing is less like composition than it is like live coverage of a reality tv show. In the beginning I write out the premise, the cast of characters and the historical and interpersonal events that must take place... then I turn the characters lose and wait to see what they do to each other within that frame work. This is largely how the tales become so tangled I only really know how they start and how they end, the middle makes itself up as it goes along. The whole cause and effect thing, I like physics. I have, however, run into a rather unexpected problem. It would appear that the chapter delays rest largely with the Heir of Isildur. In each chapter Aragorn pieces together a part of his past. Unfortunately the bloody ranger's brain has turned out to resemble swiss cheese. Nearly every chapter we all stand around waiting for him to remember something so that I can write it down and shoot out the next chapter to all you loyal fans. (The other characters stand around in my studio trying to stay busy with their hobbies... Haldir has learned how to make baked Alaska and Dinendal has put three arrow nicks in my book case. But I digress) The only thing I can suggest is that if the delays go too long grab Aragorn by the scruff, give him a good shake and insist that he remember something.
Sunny June - Thank you ever so much! And welcome to the fandom.