T.A.2941
** - direct quote from the books
"That's it, Estel," Marcaunon said encouragingly to the ten year old. "Although I do think that next lesson will have us looking at different bows for you as it seems that you've outgrown this one with your latest growth spurt. You're almost as tall as I am now."
That last part was said with a wry grin as grey eyes flashed up slightly to meet his own emerald green ones, brightly lit up with amused glee at the announcement. Marcuanon snorted and reached out, ruffling the dark, wavy locks that hung to the boyishly slim shoulders that only hinted at the height and breath the boy was growing in to.
"As if you weren't fully aware of that, tass, and rubbed it in every chance you are remotely able. Soon enough, I am sure that you will be as tall as your Ada Elrond," Marcaunon felt rewarded by the happy chuckles Estel let loose as he ducked away from the hand mussing his locks. "Now then, I suppose that it is time to cease our practice for the day."
Marcaunon raised his voice over the protests he could see the other opening his mouth spout as the young face formed into what the other probably felt was a deep scowl, but was, in fact, an adorable pout.
"Even with you using a bow that you've outgrown, and hence it is far too easy for you to use, this is still a strain on your muscles and body. I wish to be in no way, shape, or form a cause of deliberate injury to you ever again and I will thank you to respect that after the last time I let you talk me into 'just a few more' shots and ended up getting a pulled muscle in your elbow. Now go and put up the equipment that you used."
Estel looked sheepish and slightly guilty at that, as Marcaunon had been so upset over that occurence that he had cried himself sick and wouldn't oversee Estel's physical lessons without someone else being there to watch for several months.
Marcaunon sighed as he watched the child set his bow down on the table; the boy looked so much like his birth father. He watched as Estel gave a quick check to ensure that no other archer had come to the range and was shooting, then he ran to the target and began to pull out his arrows, placing them back into his quiver after giving them a thorough inspection. He truly loved the time he was able to spend with Arathorn's child, and was grateful that he was considered old enough, and skilled enough, to join in on training Estel, even if it was only one day a week.
Marcaunon silently walked away from the equipment table, his eyes only occasionally flicking forwards to watch were he was walking as, for the most part, he kept them firmly on the boy who was standing so tall and happy in the bright sun. Coming to the edge of the treeline, and the heavy, cool shade it offered, Marcaunon turned and took only a small handful of steps before coming to a halt at a low, backless stone bench that was nestled under a wispy looking, flowering tree. Sitting himself down, Marcaunon finally drew his attention away from Arathorn's child and instead allowed his eyes to come to rest on the empty seat beside him, loosing himself in the dance of light that happened across the heavy, dark-grey stone every time the breeze picked up and made the fragile, overhead branches sway.
His sensitive hearing easily picked up the sounds Estel made, allowing him to track the boy's progress as he cleaned up the range, got himself a drink, then made his way over to where Marcaunon was seated. What was coming up next was both his favorite time of the week, and the one he dreaded the most at times. Knowing that Estel was almost there, Marcaunon raised his eyes to the other's face and gently patted the open seat next to him. Elessar quickly sat himself down, then leaned over, placing his head gently against Marcaunon's shoulder. Marcaunon raised his arm and wrapped it around the boy, giving him a gentle squeeze.
"What would you like to hear this week," Marcaunon quietly asked after several minutes had passed with the two of them just enjoying the comfort the other had to offer.
"Could you please tell me about how mother and father met and married?" Estel asked, his boyish voice a mere whisper.
"Of course," Marcaunon fondly said, bestowing a swift kiss to the top of the head nestled so trustingly against him. "It really isn't that much of a story though, just so that you are aware. Gilraen the Fair, your mother, was out in the market one day when your father bumped into her. Quite literally in this case, causing her to drop one of her baskets.
"I must say, for a Ranger, your father was fearsome indeed when it came to anything weapon related and he was awe-inspiring when he was out in the woods or training someone in anything related to the two, but when his guard was down, it was a whole other story. In other words," Marcaunon said with a bit of a twinkle in his eyes and a light laugh in his voice, "he was a bit of a clutz. He and I had also met by running into each other, causing me to drop several books that Erestor had set me to read. Erestor was not the most pleased person about that as a few corners of his precious books were dinged up and he let Arathorn know that. Loudly and at length."
Estel snorted, his hand coming up to cover the bottom half of his face as chuckles began to escape him.
"However, getting back to the main tale, he swiftly apologized to Gilraen, then insisted on accompanying her on the remainder of her market trip. He bumped into several other people during that trip; this time though it was because he was unable to remove his eyes from the beautiful person of your mother, much to the amusement of everyone watching. When Gilraen was finished with her shopping, he escorted her back to her home. He then spent the next year, when not out fighting or patrolling, learning all he could about her and getting to know her better and falling in love. For it may have been her great beauty that first caught his eyes, but it was her gentle strength and amazing personality that held him. And it was a love that was returned in full measure by your mother. However, when he went to ask for her hand, he was opposed in this by her father, Dirhael, who said that she was much too young, being only just a few years above her coming of age. Also, he had a sense of foreboding that Arathorn would not live long. But her mother, Ivorwen, soothed him and convinced him to allow the match, saying, "If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts."**"
Marcaunon paused in his tale telling for a moment, letting himself draw some comfort in his surroundings and the boy resting quietly against him.
"Your mother's father was quite correct in his misgivings, as Arador was killed by Hill Trolls barely a year after the wedding, thrusting Arathorn to the chieftainship, only to be killed himself by foul orcs three years later. The other side of that coin though, is that your mother's mother was also correct in her counsel, as you were born a year after Arathorn became chief, giving much joy and hope to your people."
There was no response made to that, nor did he really expect one as it was a lot to take in. Marcaunon sat in silence, listening to the birds and insects, his arm still wrapped around Estel's slim shoulders as he offered quiet comfort and support. It was almost a quarter of an hour later that Estel finally stirred himself, pulling away from Marcaunon as he sat upright on the bench for the first time that afternoon.
"Thank you," he said as he scrubbed at his eyes, which were red and puffy looking, although no tears had been shed. "I know that it has to hurt you to tell me this kind of stuff, but mother just can't talk about father without breaking down and I don't want to hurt her."
Marcaunon leaned over, carefully avoiding the other's arms and elbows, and placed a soft kiss on Estel's head, then he rose to his feet. Looking down, which was only possible because Estel did not rise with him, Marcaunon was struck all over again by how much Elessar was like his father.
"It is my pleasure to do so," he said firmly, a small, melancholy smile playing about his petal pink lips. His expression changed suddenly, morphing into one of vixenish trouble, "Now don't you have lessons with Ada Elrond in a few minutes? I'm pretty sure that you are supposed to be going over herb lore today, especially focusing on the plants that grow around places where your ancestors' dwelled, like the Athelas, or Kingsfoil, plant."
The look of shocked horror on Estel's face was perfect, Marcaunon decided, as the other froze in place at the reminder, before he leapt to his feet and took off running at the highest possible speed. Marcaunon considerately waited until he was out of sight before bursting out in deep laughter, tears actually coming to his eyes as he did so. It was a few minutes until he was able to get some semblance of control over himself, and even then he was prone to releasing a chuckle occasionally. Panting slightly, and feeling quite pleased with himself, Marcaunon started to leave the archery range in search of something to do, as he was finished with his chores for the day, and he had no lessons in the afternoons following Estel's training. Perhaps he would find Glorfindel and get in some training of his own, or perhaps he could assist the gardeners as it was a lovely day. He would have been very happy to seek out Gîltass, but he knew that his godfather was out and about on near patrol at the farthest points in the valley that were still in the valley.
Just as he was about to step out of the clearing the range was located in, Merilin came into view around the bend in the path before him. Marcaunon smiled brightly at the archery trainer and made to move out of her way, letting her pass freely by him, before leaving the clearing himself; however, the tall, auburn haired, blue eyed elleth clearly had other ideas as she paused when she drew even with the shorter elfling.
"Greetings to you on this fine day," Merilin said with a brief nod of her head.
"Pleasant meet," Marcaunon chirped back, smile still firmly in place as he looked up at her. "If you were looking to join with Estel and I while he had his lessons, you are just a bit late as we have already finished up and he has been sent off to meet with Lord Elrond for his lessons on herb lore."
"Thank you for that information, but no, I was not particularly looking for someone. I came to attend to the "needs repair" barrel in the archery shed. I was told that it was becoming rather full and, as I had a good bit of time on my hands this afternoon, thought that I would spend some of it going through the thing and fixing those that could be fixed and seeing to the disposal of the ones that are non-repairable."
"Do you need any assistance?"
"No, although I thank you for your offer of aid," Merilin said with a small smile. "It shouldn't take me any time at all, especially on such a beautiful day where I can take my work outside into the bright light and fresh air. I know that you have the afternoon off, so why don't you scoot along and enjoy it."
Marcaunon made his farewells and glided off down the sun dappled path, enjoying the way the wind playing in the overhead branches made changed the shadows on the path, making it look like it was a stretch of stream bottom with the water rippling over it. As he walked along, Marcaunon made the decision to spend the day gardening, but instead of working along side of others in the main gardens, he would take the time to tend to his own little patch. Decision now made, his pace picked up until he was skipping merrily along the paths to his destination.
Entering his garden, Marcaunon looked around and let out a happy squeal as he quickly removed his boots and stockings so that he could have a better connection to the earth, allowing him to better "listen" to what the plants could tell him. Stepping forward, he headed straight for the section that played host to the healing herbs he cultivated. Marcaunon knelt down and promptly lost himself for the next several hours and he tended to his plants and "listened" to what they were saying about the world around him.
It was only the combination of his plants letting him know about the vibrations approaching him and the large hand coming to a rest on his slim shoulders that drew him out of his green world. Shaking off the haze that tended to fall over him while he was immersed in his plants, Marcaunon then looked up to see the amused face of Glorfindel peering back down at him. Happiness filled him to the brim and he spun around and leapt up, knowing that his beloved would always be there to catch him.
Glorfindel let out a deep laugh as he caught Marcaunon and spun him around several times before coming to a halt. Letting the petite male slip from his hold until his dainty feet were once again touching the ground, Glorfindel kept his arms wrapped around the precious bundle as he leaned over and pressed a kiss into the mass of dark, curly locks that were straining hard against the braid the other had pulled them back into that morning. While nothing of a physical nature had or would occur between them for many, many years due to Marcaunon's fragile young age, Glorfindel took much comfort in merely spending time with the youth and holding him in his arms was a pleasure that he could not and would not forgo, especially when his tithen pen also took such obvious comfort in it. They spent the next several moments merely savoring one another's company and love before Glorfindel huffed a sigh into Marcaunon's dark locks and released him enough that Glorfindel was able to look the other in the eyes.
"The near patrol just arrived a few moments before I came to get you. Mithrandir has returned and has brought along several Hadhodrim back with him. Also he has brought along a halfling, one of the Shirefolk from near the banks of the Baranduin. It is altogether a most curious group."
Marcaunon looked up, wonder shining in his eyes and lighting up his slim, aristocratic face. He had never seen either of those two races before. In fact, he had only really ever seen elves with the occasional glimpse of one of the second born that would come to Imladris from time to time to do a bit of studying in the vast library. He was kept under heavy watch during those times as the elves wished for no solid news about him to escape out into the world as he was still a child and they took his protection very seriously.
And as for Mithrandir, well, Marcaunon had met the Ishtar before. Shortly after his and Gîltass' arrival in Imladris in fact. And what a meeting that was...Marcaunon smiled as he buried his face into Glorfindel's chest and remembered...
Gandalf worriedly puffed on his pipe as he snapped the reigns again, encouraging the horse that was drawing his cart to keep it's speed up to a trot. While he was fully aware that the beast had to be tired, after all, he had been making the poor thing keep to this pace for the last two days, they were almost at their destination, having crossed the ford into Imladris just a short bit ago. The messenger that Elrond had sent out had gotten truly lucky as Gandalf was already on his way to visit the Elven Lord, having had a flash of intuition that he had long ago learned to follow.
It was the state of the scout that found him that was causing him to lay on all reasonable speed, however, as the elf was flushed and had quickly relayed Elrond's desire to see him before turning down the hospitality of Gandalf's camp to hurry back to Imladris, thus firing up his immense curiousity.
As he pulled into the heart of the valley, where he was usually able to hear the welcoming strains of hauntingly beautiful elven voices raised in song, Gandalf found himself puzzled that no melody wafted through the air to greet him. Becoming increasingly alarmed, he *chirked* at his horse once again, trying to speed it along, but the steed was having none of it and refused to advance it's pace beyond that of a tired trot. Finally, they pulled abreast of the wall and Galdalf was able to looked up and take the measure of the guards as they stood in their positions. It did little to reassure him, as they were all in full armor and what features he was able to make out in the gathering gloom all looked quite fierce.
He rolled through the gates, crossed the courtyard, and pulled up just outside the stables, nearest the path that would lead him to the building that played host to Elrond's study, hoping to finally find some answers. But just as he was stepping down from his cart, leaving his very tired steed to catch it's breath, Erestor popped up at his elbow. Gandalf's extremely bushy eyebrows shot up in shock as he took in the elf's appearance, for the elf, normally one of the most composed beings that Gandalf had had the pleasure of meeting, was almost frazzled looking and kept running his long fingers with their callouses from his work as a scribe through his long hair, making it look like a stringy mess.
"Welcome and well met, Mithrandir. I know not how you arrived so soon after we sent out the scouts with their messages for you, but I will lay that miracle at the feet of the Valar as well. Now come, I am to lead you to where you may find our Lord Elrond."
"I thank you for your welcome," Gandalf said, puzzled, even as he followed after the tall elf who was practically running down the paths at the speed he was walking. "I do know the way to Elrond's study, though, if you have somewhere else you must be."
"No, no. We are going to the same place. My Lord has quite happily taken up residence in the nursery for the last three days, not that I can blame him," Erestor muttered the last bit so quietly that Gandalf wasn't quite sure that he had heard him correctly, although he definitely heard the next bit. "If my duties allowed me to do so, I would join him more there more than I already do."
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you?" Gandalf huffed out as they sped around a corner, all the time looking around in shock as he saw more and more elves in the area the closer they came to the nursery. "I thought that Arathorn was doing well and, in fact, was recently sent to visit among his people, and so, he shouldn't be here and the nursery should be empty?"
Just as he spoke, they arrived at the door to the nursery, where they had to fight their way past a crowd that was gathered around the open door, all of whom looked to be experiencing an amazingly pleasant shock. A bright burst of high-pitched laughter rang into the evening air, quickly followed and over-lapped by a second set of high-pitched giggles. Gandalf quickly pushed forward through the last few elves to reach the open doorway, where he froze in shock.
There, before his very eyes, were a pair, A PAIR!, of elflings!
And Elrond of all beings was seated on the floor, holding the two tiny, laughing beings securely on his lap as he tickled their sides, causing the bright joyous noise that was children's laughter to escape them. Dazed, Gandalf staggered into the brightly lit room, drawing the attention of the three beings playing on the floor. The elflings immediately stopped laughing, drawing closer to Elrond and snuggling in tightly against the person they knew. The tiniest elfling had popped a miniscule thumb into his mouth and was also hiding behind the taller elfling, letting only his emerald eyes be occasionally seen as he sought safety from the stranger that Gandalf was to them as the Istar loomed over the trio.
"Wha- but..how!?" Gandalf sputtered as he forced his legs to carry him just far enough into the room so that he was able to land in the nearest chair as his legs gave out from underneath him. He was completely flabbergasted by the sight before him.
Elrond calmly, but with an air of absolute joy about him, elegantly rose from the ground, easily holding onto the two dark-haired elflings. Gandalf watched the three of them closely as the Lord moved closer to him and, in fact, took the nearest seat available. The elven Lord smoothly settled the two miracles on his lap as he took his seat, seemingly paying them no mind as he turned his attention towards Gandalf, but the way his long, elegant fingers rose and began to play with the older elfling's dark locks was quite telling that his attention was divided. Not that Gandalf could even remotely blame the other as his attention was rather fixed on the two little ones as well. It wasn't until he heard Elrond say that Gildor and Arador had found the little ones all alone in the woods just outside of the ruins of Fornost that he was able to focus better on the tale that he was being told, losing himself in the knowledge that somehow, someway, the two little, lost princes that were Elrond's Uncles found their way into a new world to survive and thrive, leading eventually to the return of the two younglings who were currently resting on Elrond's lap. So lost was he in the the information being given to him that he never saw the miniscule fingers reaching out towards him.
Harry - no, his name was now Marcaunon and he should get used to referring to himself as such - Marcaunon knew that he shouldn't do it, but that part of him that he had taken to calling his inner child was right there and egging him on fiercely. His tiny, delicate hand cautiously reached out while his jewel bright eyes flickered between watching his bobbing and dancing target and keeping a careful eye on the adults who were clearly caught up in their rather intense looking discussion. A small body suddenly pressing up against his back caused him to start slightly, but was quickly tuned out as Marcaunon easily identified the warm mass as Gîltass; his godfather leaning in to him enough and in such a way that the taller, older elfling was resting his head on top of Marcaunon's messy raven head. Marcaunon narrowed his eyes, his tongue sticking slightly out of the corner of his mouth, as he swiftly closed in on his target.
Gandalf immediately ceased talking the moment he felt something tangle tightly into his beard. Looking down, he was surprised to see wide innocent-looking eyes in a tiny elfling face peering intensely back up at him, even as the other's small, finely-boned fingers kept playing with his long grey beard. A warm chuckle drew his eyes back up to meet with the amused orbs of the elven Lord.
"I can see that you must have had your hands rather full over the last few days," Gandalf said, relaxing into his chair and trying to ignore the tugging on his beard, followed by the pout the elfling gave when the long hairs slid out of his fingers.
"Indeed," Elrond replied contentedly pulling his lapful closer to himself as he also sat back a bit more in his chair. "Now then, what do you think about..."
Marcaunon began to laugh hysterically to himself as another memory made itself known hard on the heels of the first, but his laughing drew Glorfindel's attention fully on himself, making the taller, much older elf pull away slightly once again and use his fingers to gently raise Marcaunon's chin so that their eyes could meet.
"What has you in such a state, dear one?"
"I was just remembering the first time that Gîltass and I first met the reknowned Mithrandir and right at the end, I had a sudden flash of memory to the next day, when Gîltass found out that Mithrandir's cart was loaded with fireworks," Marcaunon stated around bursts of laughter.
"Ah!" Glorfindel exclaimed, humor lighting up his own light blue eyes. "That is something that I truly wish that I had been here for: to see it in person truly must have been a sight for the ages! I am sure that the descriptions given to me were hardly able to do justice to that occurence.
"But come," he said, suddenly getting more serious, even as a small gleam could be seen in his beautiful eyes. "It is time and past for us to have responded to such news, and I am sure that several of our nearest and dearest are wondering where we are and what has been keeping us from their sides for such a long time, as I was sent out to bring you to dinner so that we may eat alongside of our guests."
Marcaunon nodded and schooled his features into a semblance of solemnity before taking the hand that his life-mate offered to him. It was time indeed.
tass - trouble
Hadhodrim- dwarves
Estel- hope
corrected the name Ellesar to Estel 8-18-2014
