Chapter Thirty-Four
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SUMMARY: So, how is Turamarth doing? Let's take a look…
Thranduil and the gang head home at last, with some gifts from the Lord and Lady…
and boy are they in for a surprise!
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"I won't make promises that I can't keep
I won't make promises that I don't mean
I'll even mean the things I whisper in my sleep
Oh, let me tell you
I won't say a single thing darling, that you can't believe
You gotta believe me…"
"Promises," by Def Leppard
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Lothlórien, 5th of August 2944 T.A.
"Are you ready, Pînlass?" Thranduil asked, as he pet Naurmôr's nose, and checked his saddle.
"I am well enough to ride," Legolas complained. "Why must I stay in the wagon?"
"Because I said so," Gilfanon handed a bag of supplies to Elladan. "The Prince gets the Willow Bark twice a day, and there is a bottle of liniment to rub into his sore muscles if they ache. He can do his daily exercises in the wagon, so do not let him talk you out of it."
"Can I not even ride my horse part of the time?"
"You may start with one hour per day, and if – and I do mean IF – you suffer no ill effects or fatigue, you may increase it by one half-hour each day, no more."
"But I do not think I—"
The Master Healer huffed, then glared at the twins. "I do not expect Legolas to follow my instructions, but if you two let him get away with it, you will be at the mercy of his father, who will tell your father. Now, the Prince's hands may ache after holding the reins, so massage them with Athelas oil—"
"Stop talking about me as if I am not here!" the blonde Prince scowled, as he rested on the pillows against the side of the wagon.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Legolas," Arwen climbed up one of the wheels and kissed him soundly on the cheek. "I need you to keep my brothers out of trouble."
"I will," Legolas growled, but he took her hand and kissed it. "And no matter what anyone says, I am not riding into my father's Palace in a wagon!"
Arwen rolled her eyes and went to take her place at her grandparents' side.
"If you think he is grumpy now, what until we are on the road for a week," Thranduil's mouth twitched.
The Healer winced and shook his head. "You are a braver Elf than I, My Lord."
"I am still right here!" the blond Prince waved his hands. "Alagos is not going to like this."
"Your horse will be fine," Elrohir gave him a lop-sided grin. "He will enjoy not being saddled with your Nulav most of the day! Get it?" he snorted, and jabbed at his brother. "'Saddled?'"
Elladan punched his brother's shoulder, "Ai!"
"Naeg!" The Elrohir rubbed it. "You are just jealous you did not think of it!"
Gilfanon leaned in and whispered to Thranduil. "May I speak to you, My Lord?"
"Of course," he said, and they walked a few yards away. "Is there something wrong?"
"You see why I wanted the twins to come? Their merry dispositions will ease him." The Master's face grew serious. "Though only remnants of the Darkness remain in your Forest, I fear Legolas will still be susceptible. I have instructed Elladan and Elrohir to keep his spirits up as much as possible until you get farther North."
"Should I put him under a Losta-luith?" the Elvenking asked.
"Only at night, and only if you must. If your son learns to cope on his own, it will strengthen his fëa. Keep an eye on Orlin's sister, as well. She is familiar with the condition the Forest, but her homesickness will also make her vulnerable."
"I see. Perhaps I will keep the caravan going throughout the first few days, to reduce the time on the Path."
"A wise idea." Gilfanon saluted him. "I wish you a safe journey, Aran nîn."
Thranduil returned the courtesy, and bowed low. "Thank you for helping my son, Mellon nîn."
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They returned to the gathering, where Galadriel was with Evvy and her family.
The Lady placed a slim, golden chain with small charms, on Evranin's wrist. "These are small reminders of home to comfort you, though I see your mother has already given you a gift."
"Yes, My Lady," Evvy held up her hand, which bore a gold band. "Nana and Adar gave them to Orlin and me last night. They wanted to remind us that though their union has ended, we will always be loved." She twirled it on her finger. "This will remind me of our last meeting, and that goodbye does not mean forever."
"Your reunion will be joyous." Galadriel caressed her cheek. "My last gift is advice: Difficulties sometimes lead to the greatest moments of our lives. Remember, it matters not how often we fall, as long as we find a way to get back up."
"My Lord," Orlin approached and bowed to the Elvenking. "Safe travels, and look after Evvy, please?"
"Of course, we will." Thranduil clasped his wrist. "Thank you for your help with my people."
Orlin looked over his shoulder at his father and sister. "May I ask another favor?"
"Anything," Elrohir said.
"Evvy has always been nervous in the saddle, and if you can help her riding skills during this trip, it would give her something else to think about."
"Sounds like fun!" Elladan brightened.
"Be gentle," Orlin warned. "No practical jokes."
"Me? I would never!"
Thranduil clapped his hands on each of the twin's shoulders. "They will behave, Orlin. I will make sure of it. Now, we must be on our way."
The Elvenking left the Healer to help his sister into the wagon, and went to say farewell to the Lord and Lady.
"Despite the circumstances that brought me here, I have loved my time with you, Celeborn," he embraced his cousin. "You must come and see us soon, yes? Our Tilda grows fast, as does Bain and Sigrid, and you will be sorry if you miss it."
"There is a crate of gifts for your family in the wagon," Galadriel's eyes twinkled. "Haldir sent a few cases of his wine, as well."
"Ai!" he rolled his eyes with a laugh. "Thank you, Marchwarden!"
Haldir stepped forward with his brothers and saluted. "My pleasure, Aran nîn. You might appreciate it….for medicinal purposes, you understand."
"My Lady," the Elvenking took her hand in both of his. "You," his voice caught, "and your husband have brought my son back to me, and I am grateful, yet we must never forget the cost. Four Elves have lost their lives, and we will honor their sacrifice."
"Elanor and Niphredil will grow thick over the mounds of the fallen, and songs will be and sung to keep their memory alive. Among the gifts, are seeds of these flowers, to surround the Memorials for those who fall in the Golden Wood."
"I shall pass on your kind condolences." He kissed her cheek. "Farewell, My Lady."
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After the last embraces and fond goodbyes, the Elvenking mounted Naurmôr gave the signal, and the caravan began the long journey home.
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10th of August 2944 T.A.
While Darryn was napping, Rhian was sewing and Tur leafed through the pages of the book he was trying to read, but gave up with a sigh.
"What's wrong, love?"
"Rhian, I think I have imposed on you long enough. I feel terrible for chasing Ben and Hannah out of their own home…"
"You did not chase anyone away." Rhian sighed, as she put down Darryn's shirt. "They always planned on keeping her house. Since last December they spent half their time there anyway. It's practically next door to the Healing House, and Da hated the idea of her walking across town alone at night."
"But you and Daeron are also newly married and—"
"Tur," her voice was patient. "If this were your house, and I needed help, would you let me leave?"
"Well, no, but—"
"Look, Daeron's hardly here, between working with Lord Elrond and his shifts at the Healing House, but I want him to have this opportunity. You've helped look after the house, and you babysit Darryn so I can go to work, and you've been keeping me from getting lonesome. I love having you here!"
"Only if you are sure..."
Rhian got up, put her sewing down and knelt in front of his chair. "Look at me. If I ever want you to leave, I promise I will say so. If I want some alone time with my husband, I will say so."
"And you have, a number of times." The corner of Tur's mouth quirked. "I know what, 'Darryn would love you to take him outside' means."
"See what I mean?" She giggled. "I was also thinking…"
"Always dangerous," he tried to smile.
"Stop," she pulled his hair. "Ruvyn's let Ivran have the apartment they were sharing, for him and Cwën. Why don't you ask if he'll move into yours? It would get the poor lad out of the barracks, and he could look after your place until you are ready?"
Turamarth looked down in his lap. "That is a good idea."
"Can I tell you something?"
Tur didn't answer, but his head moved slightly.
Rhian sat back on her heels. "When I had Darryn, I was… I felt like inside I was this giant, empty room; no windows, no furniture, nothing, except this ache that never seemed to go away. I thought there must have been something terrible about me to deserve how Phylip and Garth treated me, you know?"
Turamarth raised his eyes, but instead of meeting her gaze, he turned and looked at the far wall, before he whispered. "Did you feel…tainted?"
"Oh, aye! I felt like I was… marked for life, like I had this ugly tattoo on my forehead that everyone could see. Garth degraded me in the worst possible way, and…" Rhian stopped and slowly blew out a breath. "The thing is, Tur, what helped me was talking to Hannah. No matter what I said, she never acted shocked, or disgusted or anything. She made me feel safe enough to say everything out loud, and I cried buckets, but I started to get better."
"Daeron hasn't said anything to me, and I won't ask." Rhian put her hands over his. "I'm not going to push you, love, but if you ever feel ready to talk about this, I'm here and I promise to listen, yeah?"
She rose, kissed his forehead, and turned to go back to her sewing, but fingers suddenly closed around her wrist.
"How did you know?" he whispered.
She sat down again. "The signs are all there, Tur: you can't stand to be touched except by us, you stay in the house or the Garden. I've seen you panic when you've tried to go out, because every other person in the world feels like a stranger right now. And when the parents came to visit, you felt too ashamed to look them in the eye."
"I think, if you knew the truth, you would not want me here, Rhian." His voice shook. "Not around you, and especially not around Darryn."
"That's not true."
"How can you be sure?"
"You told Daeron what happened, didn't you?"
Turamarth's chest rose and fell, as a sigh escaped his lips. "A little."
"And he still wants you here, right?" She smiled. "Tur, if my husband thought for a second Darryn or I wouldn't be safe with you, not even King Thranduil could get him to agree. Am I right?"
"Yes." Tur agreed, softly.
"So, let's have no more of that nonsense." She winked. "Now, how about you read aloud while I finish my boy's mending? I swear that kid will outgrow these clothes before I can get caught up!"
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13th of August 2944 T.A.
Daeron had an entire day off! After enjoying an extended session of morning delight with his wife, he took his son to the park, then sat with him on the front porch guessing the shapes of the puffy clouds in the sky.
He also spent precious hours quietly talking with his Gwador, who was especially subdued, but responsive.
Just before dinnertime, Daeron saw the heavy grey clouds gather from the kitchen window the overlooked the back Garden. The skies had darkened, and the wind had picked up and changed direction.
"It will rain soon," he picked up Darryn, who had just woken from his afternoon nap, and set him on the counter. "See, Pînig?"
Darryn kneeled on the surface and flattened his hands against the pane of glass. "''re is it?"
"It is coming. Do you see the leaves on that tree, in Mama's Garden? Some of them look lighter because they have turned over."
"Why?"
"Before it rains, the air becomes heavier, and and the leaves droop."
"Why?"
"Because they no longer look for the sun, and they relax."
"Whassat?"
"It means 'loose." Daeron held up his hand. "Make a fist and hold it as tight as you can, like Ada."
The boy set his Blankie down, clenched his hands (along with his teeth, for good measure). "Grrrr… Yike dis?"
"Yes. You are very strong, Pînig! Now loosen your fingers, and let them hang," Daeron let his wrists go limp and swung them back and forth. "See? Now my hands are relaxed. You do it."
Darryn mimicked his father with a giggle. "I did it!"
"You did, Darryn! That is what relaxed means: the leaves are floppy, because they do not have to work to get to the sun, so when the wind begins to blow, it turns them over, and that is how we know it will rain."
"Wet me see…" Darryn pressed his nose against the glass and observed the large maple tree. When the mist from the boy's breath fogged the window, he cried, "Wook, Ada!"
"I see," Daeron smiled, and drew a shape on the glass.
"Whassat?"
"A heart, Ion nîn. It means I love you." He smiled and kissed the boy's hair.
"Do it again!"
So for the next ten minutes, they fogged up the window and drew funny shapes, until they were discovered.
"What are you two doing?" Rhian came into the kitchen.
"Ada woves me!" He pointed to one of the hearts. "Wook!"
"Aww," She came up and put her arm around Daeron's waist. "He loves you, sweetie, and so do I, but next time have Ada keep your shoes off my counters. Now tell Ada to get you down from there so I can get dinner ready."
"Your Mama's the boss, Pînig," Daeron put their son on the floor, "go into the Sitting Room and get some of your toys, yes?"
When Darryn scampered off, Daeron kissed his wife, then picked up the washcloth to clean the wooden surface. "Is Tur still in his room?"
"Aye. It's been three days, since we talked, love." She put her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his chest. "What if I made things worse?"
Daeron put down the cloth and took her in his arms. "He opened up to you, Hind Calen: I have to believe it means something."
"He's still so… lifeless and flat, Daeron; he doesn't laugh, or cry… The only time he smiles is at the baby, to keep from hurting his feelings. He can't go on like this!"
"It is better if he does this on his own, but if there is no change after a few more days, I will approach him."
"All right," Rhian's cheek rested on his chest, as he lifted his hand to run his fingers through her hair.
"I think it is curlier, Meleth nîn."
"You mean bushier," she chortled. "It always gets that way when the air gets humid."
At the sound of rain pattering against the window, she opened her eyes and rested her chin against his chest. "Here it comes…" she grinned up at him.
"ADA! It's waining!" Darryn came tearing into the kitchen, dancing in place. "Can we go out an' pway? Pweeeese, Mama?"
Daeron pouted down at his wife. "Please, Mama?"
"Go get some towels in the downstairs linen closet. And make sure you strip down to your smalls; it'll save me some laundry."
"Yay!"
By the time Daeron returned to the kitchen with the towels, his son was completely naked. "Huwwy!"
"I am hurrying…" Daeron took his tunic and leggings off, and – why not? – everything else.
"You two are ridiculous," Rhian giggled. "Good thing the garden walls are high, or you'd scare off the neighbors!"
"Fear not, Fair Lady," Daeron bowed with as much dignity as his nude state could muster. "We shall protect you – and our neighbors - from these dangerous, dastardly mud puddles. To Battle, Pînig!" And he opened the door and let his son drag him outside.
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After dinner, they took a bath together and somehow managed to get clean without splashing water all over the floor. He got them both dried off and into their sleeping clothes, and after toweling and combing out their hair, he carried his son into the Sitting Room, which was empty.
"Rhian?"
Silence, except for the heavy rain beating on the roof and a bit of thunder.
"Rhian, where are you?"
"'s Mama?"
"She was here before. Did she go upstairs—"
But a slight movement in Daeron's peripheral vision made him walk through the archway into the kitchen/dining area, to open the back door.
In the fading light of the day he saw Turamarth kneeling on the ground. His clothes were stuck to his body, his hair fell in wet streaks and plastered against his shoulders. His face was buried in his hands, and his shoulders shook from sobs that wracked his body so hard he was almost doubled over.
Daeron's vision swam, and his throat tightened painfully, as his Gwador's agonized keening tore his insides to shreds.
But he wasn't alone.
Rhian's wet hair was flattened against her head in waves, almost black in the grey dusk, and the fabric of her dress, accentuated her full breasts and her small waist, as she cautiously approached Tur. Daeron's heart raced as he watched her kneel, put her arms around him, and when he lay his head against the comforting softness of her chest, she held him fast, and her hand stroked his hair. She gently rocked him, murmured comforting words, and let him cry as much he needed.
At last.
The dam of pain inside his Gwador had finally burst.
Daeron wiped his eyes and quietly closed the back door.
"'s dat Unca Tur?" Darryn pointed.
"Yes, Ion nîn."
"He's sad."
"Uncle Tur is a bit sad."
The baby's mouth turned downward. "A boo-boo?"
"Yes, Uncle has a booboo. But see how Mama is taking care of him? She will help him feel better. We should get them some towels and clean clothes, yes?"
"Uh huh," Darryn agreed.
"Then after, shall I take you upstairs and tell you a story?"
"Two?"
"Two," the Elf smiled and kissed the dimple in Darryn's cheek. "I will even sing you the Elk song."
"Yay!"
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The Woodland Realm, 17th of August 2944 T.A.
"Home at last!" Thranduil smiled happily, as the Palace horns blew to announce their approach. Naurmôr whinnied with excitement as he picked up the pace, as did Alagos, who bore his son beside him. "How do you feel?"
"Nervous, although I should not be…"
Thranduil reached over and patted his forearm. "Of course you are. Since the Battle, we have all had to find a way to start over. This is your turn."
"Will Bard and the rest of the family be there?"
"No. I sent a message telling him you need a few days to get used to being home again."
"But do you not miss them?" Legolas's forehead wrinkled with concern.
"More than you can imagine, but you are my priority right now. He understands."
"I wish you were wrong, but I am tired; a few days would be good."
"For now, let us just worry about settling in our rooms, and eating a good dinner, yes? The rest will come."
They came to the bridge and the tall doors silently opened by the smiling guards.
"Maedol mâr, Aran nîn, Cund nîn," Captain Adamar saluted.
"It is good to be home." Thranduil returned the courtesy with a nod, then dismounted. How is Turamarth?"
"My son and daughter-in-law are keeping Tur with them; his latest message gives us some hope, My Lord. We would have liked to have stayed for the duration, but…"
"You certainly could have done so; I would not hold that against you or your wives."
"I am grateful, Sire, but we came to believe that Tur was too concerned about upsetting us, to work through this. Daeron sends frequent updates." Adamar cleared his throat. "I see you have brought guests?"
"You remember Evranin, one of Daeron's friends? She has come to work with Gwindor in the Libraries; to begin a collection for King Bard. And the twins are the sons of Elrond, as I am sure you surmised. I will need Galion to arrange for rooms… Captain, why are you looking at me like that?"
Adamar's face had taken on a slightly pinched look. "Mithrandir and Lady Emëldir await you. Along with Lady Hilda."
"Hilda is here?"
"Y-Yes, My Lord. They are just inside." The Captain saluted again and went to greet Evvy.
"Is Galion in Dale?" Legolas asked.
"He must be." Thranduil shrugged. "Come along, Ion."
After handing the reins over to an attendant, he gave Naurmôr a pat on the neck and he and Legolas entered his Palace.
They were met by Lady Emëldir, Mithrandir and Hilda, who were all smiling. A bit too hard, he noticed.
"Dhe suilannon," Emëldir bowed her head and saluted. "Gwannas lû and, Cund Legolas!"
"The Prince of the Woodland Realm has returned," Mithrandir's blue eyes were bright, as was his smile. "You look wonderful, Legolas!"
"Thank you," the Prince saluted. "And Lady Hilda, I remember you from the refugee camps."
"Hello, love," Hilda stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Wait till you see what we've done with the Dale! You'll love it!" She threw her arms around Thranduil in a tight hug. "Oh, my precious boy. When Elrond told us what happened…" she sniffled. "We're just so happy to have you all back, and in one piece…"
"I am happy to see you, too," he smiled into her hair. "How has the family been?"
"Worried. Missing you like crazy," she patted his cheek. "But it's right you take a few days here to get Legolas settled."
"I am surprised Galion stayed in Dale; did something happen?"
Dead silence, as the three of them looked at their shoes.
The Elvenking's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "I said, did something happen with Galion?"
After another long pause, all three began to babble at once:
"Oh, he is fine—"
"He is perfectly well, Aran nîn—"
"Couldn't be better," Hilda bit her lip, and added, "from what we've seen of him."
Thranduil blinked. "'From what you have seen?' He is in Dale, yes?"
"You've no need to worry, my friend," Mithrandir raised his hand—
"Galion is not hurt, or ill—" Emëldir's smile grew even more forced.
"He really is fine, but he's actually not in Dale, love—"
"I am not in the habit of repeating myself! You will tell me what happened to my Aide this instant!"
Mithrandir cleared his throat. "Well, it really is an interesting story—"
"It may have been a bit…unorthodox, but we were desperate—" Emëldir wrung her hands. "We did not know what else to do—"
"And, I just know we'll all have a good laugh about this, later—"
"You see, it all started back when you and Bard were married," the Wizard smiled warily, "I looked at Galion and thought—"
"There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this, My Lord—"
"It's really kind of sweet, when you think about it, love—"
"It wasn't my idea," Mithrandir said. "Well part of it was, but the part where we put—"
"It was all of our doing, My Lord and I take full responsibility for my actions," the Head of his Council lifted her chin.
"We wouldn't have done it in the first place, except Galion was so bloody clueless at this stuff, and—"
"Isn't that the truth," Gandalf nodded with an uneasy laugh. "They both are—"
"Lady Hilda had a wonderful idea to fix the situation, and, as I said, we were desperate—"
"And I'm here to make sure you don't kill anyone before we have a chance to explain—"
"SILENCE!" The Elvenking held up his hand and gritted his teeth.
Every mouth in the vicinity of the King closed, and activity came to a stop. Elladan and Elrohir came over to see what was going on.
"Since I am not going to get a straight answer out of any of you, Legolas and I are going to find Galion and get to the bottom of this! Right this minute! Follow me, Ion nîn!"
"Thranduil, I'm not sure that's a good idea—"
"He is right, My Lord." Emëldir's eyes were wide with panic, as the trio chased after him. "You really should let us explain—"
"Here's what happened," Hilda began, "Bard found this note from Galion on desk a couple of weeks ago, saying he quit—"
"When he arrived here, I met with him in his study, Aran nîn, and he was determined to leave—"
"And go where?" Thranduil's eyes bulged.
"To the Grey Havens," Hilda waved her hands. "So, you know we had to do something!"
"Desperate times, and all," the Wizard added.
"Wait, wait…" Thranduil was stunned. "Did you just say the Grey Havens?"
"Yes, and like I said, we wanted to keep him from doing something stupid, so Gandalf went to find out what was behind all this nonsense, and we wrestled him down, and dragged him here to fix it," Hilda exhaled out of the corner of her mouth. "He tried to run off before we got him in there, and I had grab him by his—"
"Wrestle who down? Who is him?"
"Rôgon, of course! And let me tell you, that boy's stubborn as a mule; I nearly ripped his ear off to get him back in there, and Gandalf threatened to turn him into—"
"Rôgon? The Blacksmith?" Thranduil rubbed his forehead in bewilderment, as they reached the Royal Wing and made their way down the long corridor. "Wh- What does he have to do with any of this?"
"Well, it seems he and Galion had some sort of argument—" the Wizard began.
"More of a misunderstanding—" Emëldir spread her hands.
"A lover's quarrel, really, and we thought if we just locked them in the same room—"
"All we thought they would do was talk—"
"That's right! Percy started a pool to as to what time they'd stop screaming at each other... Hey now, you don't need to look at me like that! We had no idea... I mean, this is Galion, we're talking about, here—"
"But—"
"ENOUGH!" Thranduil roared, as he reached the door to Galion's apartment and opened the door.
"NO!" the trio leaped forward, hands outstretched.
But it was too late.
His eyes swept the sitting room, his jaw slack with disbelief. The place was a mess: clothing scattered all the floor, a pair of undershorts was hanging on a lampshade, several half-full bottles of wine were on the low table in front of the couch, along with several wine glasses, and a plate with some grapes and cheese sat, half-eaten.
The place smelled like food, wine and—
Oh...
But it cannot be!
From the back of the apartment, muffled noises reached his ears. Thranduil crept down the short hall to the doorway of Galion's bedroom. He turned the knob carefully, and slowly opened the door—
Oh...
The scene would be branded in his memory for all time.
Galion, his beloved, mild-mannered Adannauth, was in the middle of the bed, on his hands and knees. His jaw was slack, and his eyes were closed in utter bliss, as he panted and moaned. Rôgon was pounding into him from behind, with one hand grabbing his lover's hip and the other tangled in Galion's dark hair. The Blacksmith's head was thrown back and shouting out filthy things, oblivious to everything but their passion.
The twins came behind him and looked over Thranduil's shoulders, their mouths hanging open in delighted horror.
Legolas brought up the rear and tried to peek around them. "What is it?" he mouthed.
The Elvenking whipped his head around and jerked his head at the twins. Barely stifling his grin, Elladan clapped his hand over the Prince's mouth, Elrohir covered his eyes and the two of them managed to drag him out of the apartment with a minimum of noise. Thranduil's vision clouded over. He fled back into the hall, shut the door, and leaned against it until his knees stopped knocking.
"Are you all right, love?" Hilda approached. "You look a bit peaked."
Resisting the urge to pluck out his eyeballs and scrub them clean, Thranduil said, in a thin, faraway voice, "I would give every jewel in my Kingdom to 'unsee' that…"
"You mean Galion was…" Legolas gasped in horror. "With Rôg?"
"What we should have done was locked them in a broom closet!" Hilda snorted in disgust. "All we wanted them to do is talk; instead, they elope, and those two have been going at it like jackrabbits for the last two weeks!"
The sons of Elrond could contain their mirth no longer. Elladan's face was beet red, as he stifled his giggles, and Elrohir covered his face and bent over, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
Thranduil shuddered, and rubbed his eyes. "I will never be able to look Galion in the eye again!"
"Now, I'm sure that's not true; this will blow over, and we'll all have a good laugh about it." Hilda patted his arm. "Haven't you ever walked in on your parents?"
"Once, and it was horrible! They were not even in their bedroom; they were on the dining room table!"
"Ai gorgor!" Legolas turned white as a sheet. "Ada!"
Thranduil groaned and covered his eyes.
"Come on," Hilda put her arm around him and led him to his chambers. "You've had quite a shock, so what you need is to sit and relax with a good strong drink… I'm sure you'll feel better after you calm down with a nice glass of wine, yeah?"
"I will go fetch a bottle of Haldir's," Elladan turn to go.
"Take your brother with you," Thranduil ordered. "Bring back all three cases."
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ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:
Adannauth – Father of the Heart.
Ai, naergon… - Oh, lament… (an expression of deep grief)
Alagos – "Windstorm," Legolas's white horse with dark legs, mane and tail. (lit. "Storm of Wind)
Dhe suilannon – I give greetings to you (formal)
Elanor - was a golden, star-shaped flower that grew in abundance in the forest of Lórien
Gwannas lû and, Cund Legolas! – It has been too long, Prince Legolas!
Maedol mâr, Aran nîn, Cund nîn
Niphredil - was a small white flower that grew first at the moment of Lúthien's birth in Doriath. It was also found among the golden trees of Lothlórien, thickest on Cerin Amroth, where some pale green varieties could be seen.
Nulav – Arse (lit. "buttocks")
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