CHAPTER 28

"So it's true that Elves don't feel the cold?" Ivy asked breathlessly, shedding her borrowed coat, frozen mittens and many scarves onto the kitchen table while Legolas joined the others in stamping his feet and shaking off the snow.

"It is true to a degree," said Erestor, clearly unhappy with the indoor snowfall and the ones who had brought it, "else my kitchen would be buried in winterwear, wouldn't it?"

Bundling up the offensive clothing, he shoved through the swinging door, presumably to return everything to Haldir's mud room.

"Seems to me that some Elves like warm coats in this weather, else they wouldn't own them," Ivy grumbled.

"When Erestor gets back, will he order us to clean up the puddles we're making on his nice, clean tile?"

"He might ask it," Elrond acknowledged.

"But not of Elrond or me." Glorfindel gloated.

Legolas scuffed a booted toe through the melt-water. "It is my floor, is it not? There's not that much water, and it will dry soon enough."

"I dare you to point that out when Erestor returns." Sliding an arm across Legolas' shoulders, Glorfindel hugged him tightly. "You've been living just beneath the Arctic Circle, so this must be naught but a balmy spring day to you."

"It's a bit too breezy at the moment for my liking. And for the record, I wore a bear in Alaska." Wet streaks of melting snow trickled down Legolas' forehead. Shaking his head, he pelted his father with water droplets.

"Ai! Stop that, you wildling!" Leaping back, Glorfindel swiped his face with a sleeve. "You've been in the woods too long. All your manners have gone."

"Sorry. Hermit habits, I suppose." Catching up his hair, Legolas squeezed the long strands tight between his fingers to strip more water down its length. "But your own snow is dripping away, so I can hardly see how my wetness makes any difference."

"It's the principle of the thing. This is my snow. You should keep yours to yourself. Slinging it around like that, it's like dealing with a wet dog." Any sting the words might have carried was dissolved by Glorfindel's grinning as he delivered them.

A barely damp Elrond stepped away as Ivy made to follow Legolas' lead with her own wet hair, and Ivy eyed the Elf-lord.

"How did you manage to stay dry?"

"The raw silk of my robes repels the snow and wicks away the water."

"Disgusting, isn't it?" said Glorfindel.

"But your hair isn't made of silk, and it looks dry. A bit waved on the ends, but dry." Reaching up, Ivy dared to run her fingers through Elrond's black hair where it fanned across his shoulder. Once she had started, she seemed reluctant to stop. "Oh, your hair's wet on top, but entirely dry underneath. That is too neat."

"That is what comes of having a Maia in one's family tree."

Elrond glanced at Glorfindel. "What has that to do with anything?"

"Surely you remember 'The Lay of Leithian' with its wonderfully clear description of your ancestor? 'There Melian came, the Lady grey,'" quoted Glorfindel, "'and dark and long her tresses lay, beneath her silver girdle seat and down unto her silver feet.'

"I remember," said the Elf-lord, sounding well and truly irritated. Shivering slightly as Ivy continued playing in his hair, Elrond reached up and took her hand gently in his. "I do not have hair down to my feet, and I do not understand what you are trying to impart."

"I've met your great-great-great-grandmother Melian the Maia," the golden Elf pointed out, "so I happen to know you have tresses just like hers - long, thick and black - with graceful little curls on the ends. My point is that Ivy is right - the hair on top wicks away the wet while the hair beneath stays dry, just like Melian's. Or a horse's. Take your pick, it's a never mind to me."

Tucking his hands into his long sleeves, Elrond gritted his teeth and gave a long-suffering sigh. "Glorfindel, I believe you and I should locate Haldir and ascertain if anything has happened in our short absence. Legolas, would you mind--"

"Seeing Ivy safely upstairs? I would be honored."

Without a further word to any of them, Elrond turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

"Forgive me for asking," said Legolas to Glorfindel, "but are you disinclined to follow in Elrond's wake like an obedient gosling when he makes exits like that?"

"Not at all. I'm pleased that I managed to irritate him so much that he felt the need to leave the room in a marked manner." Squeezing Legolas' shoulder, Glorfindel headed for the door.

The swinging kitchen door hadn't stopped swinging behind the two Elven lords before Ivy perched on the edge of the kitchen table and gave an insolent smile. "You'd be honored to escort me upstairs? Do I detect some sarcasm in Adar's request, not to mention in your reply?

Legolas looked at her blankly. "Why wouldn't Elrond ask me to see you safe?"

"After the territorial display you two put on out in the barn?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Legolas tried his best to look oblivious. "Perhaps you would like to warm yourself before the fire in the dining hall before we go upstairs?"

Legolas was saved from any further mistruths by Erestor's return. Planting himself before the only exit into the house proper, the Elf raked Legolas with an assessing gaze before offering a fierce scowl.

"How are you doing, youngling?"

"She's the youngling." Legolas pointed at Ivy.

Erestor's pointed gaze only grew more intense.

I see that nothing has changed with the passage of a half century, Legolas thought. Better to answer than to argue the point. Any point.

"I am much better now that the vote is concluded, thank you for asking." Legolas tried to avoid looking like the nervous Elfling he'd just been reduced to.

"And how did you enjoy the bread?" Erestor pursued.

"I...erm..."

The tall, austere Elf crossed his arms. "Let me guess, Little Leaf. You fed two choice slices of my fresh-baked bread to a horse - my stone-ground wheat bread covered with the best honey, no less, which was brought specifically for your pleasure all the way from my Warra beehives. I do think of you, you know."

It was not a question, but a statement that Legolas knew was founded on Erestor's having known Legolas since the moment he had been a half-starved wildling brought from Mirkwood.

Legolas fought to avoid fidgeting beneath that all-seeing gaze. The urge to scuff the toes of his boot against the flagstone floor was almost irresistible. So was the urge to bolt out the back door. I absolutely refuse to regress to the fearful child I was. Not now, and not in front of Ivy. I have faced orcs and a cave troll, Saruman and a balrog, the paths of the dead and an ocean of uruk-hai. And Eowyn when she insisted I stay for supper.

"Erestor, this is no way for us to greet each other after fifty years." Legolas spread his hands in entreaty. "I have missed you, not just your cooking."

"Be that as it may, Little Leaf, you will--"

"Legolas didn't waste the bread. Really, he didn't." Ivy jumped in to save him. Again.

Legolas felt irritation flare. She cannot make a habit of this. I am supposed to be protecting her.

"It's not his fault," Ivy babbled on, her blue eyes all wide-eyed innocence. "I held the plate too close to one of the stalls, and a filly stole the bread."

She twitched a little, but remained silent under the severe, unsympathetic gaze that had made every Elfling - even bold Elrohir - shiver in his finely made leather boots back in Imladris before blurting out a confession that yes, he had been scavenging the kitchen stores between meals.

Ivy, it seems, is made of sterner stuff than the average Elfling, thought Legolas. So far, anyway. Come to it, didn't young Aragorn manage to raid the stores and evade Erestor's suspicions once or twice? ONLY once or twice? I am not worth your incurring Erestor's wrath, so do be careful, Ivy.

Gliding away from the door, Erestor loomed over Ivy to deeply intone, "Really?"

Folding her hands primly before her, the girl tilted back her head, the better to continue matching the assessing gaze of the second most intimidating Elf in all of Imladris. Legolas found himself holding his breath in dread or anticipation - he wasn't quite certain which - as to how this confrontation might play out.

"Really," Ivy repeated with conviction. "It was that pretty little chestnut about halfway down the aisle. I never saw her coming."

Ivy didn't so much as blink, and Legolas prayed she didn't twitch again, either.

"I am sorry to have been so careless." She was all sincerity. "Is there any bread left?"

Erestor gave the girl a long, baleful glance that was worthy of Sir Philip Sydney's legendary catoblepas before hmphing and finally turning away. "There's more bread under that cloth and honey in the ceramic pot on the stove, but yourself will have to serve himself. I've the dining hall to clean and supper to prepare for you lot."

And then he was gone.

"Yes, my lord inquisitor," Ivy whispered at the kitchen door that swung in Erestor's wake before she swung her attention to Legolas. "That was scary."

Laughing softly, Legolas made his way to the bread and honey.

"Erestor can be." Taking knife in hand, he cut two thick slices of bread. "Hold these."

"I thought you said you weren't hungry."

"Erestor will check the width of his loaf after we've gone upstairs." Drizzling honey over the slice Ivy held, Legolas was careful not to drip any on the stove or the oven. "Rest assured that if I fail to eat the slices he thinks appropriate, Erestor will have no qualms about delivering them to me in the middle of our meeting."

"You're joking."

"Alas, no. He would also stand silently by until I ate what had been brought. Wouldn't that look lovely on our official tapes of the meeting? 'And here's footage of Lee Greenwood the Third and his nanny on Lee's first day with us.'" Legolas took the other slice of bread. "I dare not try to stomach both of these. I'll have this one. You take that one."

"Um, okay."

Checking the teapot on the stove, Legolas set it back with a clank.

"Cold." He wrinkled his nose. "Thank you for your help with Erestor, but I'd advise against repeating it. You were playing a most dangerous game."

"Game? What game?"

"Misleading him regarding the bread. He despises being deceived."

"I didn't mislead or deceive him," Ivy insisted. "The mare did take the bread - or tried to - and it was my fault." She shrugged, then looked up at him, her expression at its most innocent. "It's the simple truth, right? Besides, nobody could have eaten that cold, hard mess once it got to the barn. Erestor doesn't have to know you wouldn't have eaten it anyway."

She licked at the honey sliding down the side of her wrist. "I wouldn't dare lie to Erestor. Elrond may have eyebrows of doom, but Erestor...his eyes burn, and it feels like they'd suck the truth right out of you. You know, I may have to paint a fire-breathing dragon with Erestor-eyes if only to get that glower of his out of my brain."

Legolas offered a grim smile. "I know from long association how those eyes can haunt the guilty."

"Wow, this is good! But we need liquids," Ivy informed him around a mouthful of bread. Opening the refrigerator, she took a can of soda. "Have you always been such a reluctant eater?"

"Only when under undue stress." He eyed the can of Diet Coke in Ivy's hand. "Why do you and Elladan drink that?"

"Because it's good." Taking a sip, she gestured with the can. "You don't know what Diet Coke is?"

"I know it is made by the same people who make Coca-Cola, which my Inuit neighbors sometimes brought home from the Meyers Chuck General Store. I tried it once but found it too sweet. I prefer Scotland's own Irn-Bru."

"The honey lover says Coke is too sweet? Interesting. But I agree with you, for what it's worth. I don't like regular Coke either. But this..." She held up the can as if to toast its very existence. "This, I swear, is the elixir of life. Especially when you're trying to write a term paper at two in the morning or cram for finals."

"The elixir of life?" Legolas frowned. "Isn't that a bit redundant if one is an Elf? Admittedly, until I revealed your Immortal heritage, you did not know you would neither die nor grow old--"

Ivy giggled. "I'm sorry, I was speaking figuratively. As far as I know, the Mortals are still looking for the fountain of youth. Diet Coke is just a another version of Coca-Cola with fake sugar. It's a lot less sweet, and it packs a real kick."

"Kick?"

"It burns." She grinned at his continuing confusion. "The first sip is cold and good, and it burns going down. I don't know why I like that, but it's great. Afterward, you feel it hit your bloodstream."

"So it is similar to our uisge-beatha?" He continued off of Ivy's blank nod. "Uisge-beatha is Scots Gaelic for the water of life - whisky. Your Diet Coke is alcoholic?"

"Nooooo. Remember dinner in New York? You've seen what happens when I drink anything with alcohol in it. Besides, as disapproving as Adar is when I try drinking Diet Coke at breakfast, I don't think he'd let me have it at all if it were alcoholic." Ivy hesitated. "Look, liking it isn't something I can explain, so why don't you simply try some?"

She handed over the can, and Legolas gingerly took it as the fragile aluminum bent under his grasp.

"Oh, come on," she teased when he hesitated. "You know it can't be nearly as bad as whatever Gimli used to drink, and you survived that."

"How do you know what Gimli drank?"

"You're stalling. Drink up or give it back."

Shrugging, he did as she suggested. Taking a long pull, Legolas closed his eyes and swallowed hard as he felt the burn going all the way down into his empty stomach. That, I presume, is the kick?

He presumed wrong. Five seconds later, he was slammed with an awareness like no other Legolas had ever felt before. Uncurling from his belly, it streaked like lightning up to his brain. He felt blessed - no, he felt exhilarated - with an instantaneous, searing energy that extended to every limb and made his fingers tingle. As did the tips of his ears. And then, Legolas suddenly found he had the clear, crisp vision he'd hitherto experienced only before and during battle.

Hoping to repeat the searing sensation, he took another, much longer pull.

"Hey, Mikey? I think he likes it," Ivy murmured.

"I do like it. Even though I have no idea who Mikey is." He offered Ivy the can. "You asked me to return this?"

"After you've already drained half of it? No, you keep that one. I'll get another from the trolley upstairs." She gave him a shy look. "You do like it, then? Honestly?"

"It's lovely."

And it was, this almost manic feeling that he had more than enough focus and energy to do anything, take on anything, anyone might throw at him. Juliens of the world, beware!

Legolas' heart was pounding happily in his chest, and all of the clouds had dissolved from his mind. Everything was perfectly clear and ultimately simple. With only two sips of Diet Coke, Legolas' world had finally righted itself and he felt much closer to the strong, confident Elf he had been before meeting Isabel Hamilton. And it was all thanks to the little silver and red can in his hand. Why didn't anyone tell me how wonderful Diet Coke is ?

With alacrity, he finished his bread and the can of Coke. And then, boldly sliding a hand about Ivy's waist as she stood watching him with what seemed great amusement, Legolas gestured toward the door.

"Shall we?"

"I think we should," she agreed. "We've seen what happens when you're late."