CHAPTER SIX

The screaming reached me first. It was the high-pitched shriek of a terrified child, and one that I had heard before. My gaze flew instantly to the great old oak that grew outside my library balcony, and my heart turned cold as I realized that Legolas was no longer in its branches.

He'd been playing quietly in this tree all afternoon, easily within my line of site, exploring his favorite tree before curling up to sleep in the cradle of two close-growing branches I deemed not so high off the ground as to cause grievous damage should he fall. He was napping quietly only a moment ago, totally oblivious to the rain that had started to fall. My heart began to pound; something dire was in progress.

The screaming escalated, now with a hint of rage, and there was another voice joining his, this one laced with pain. I was through the library and onto the staircase when I heard Glorfindel's step behind me.

The screams mounted into piercing ranges. I gained the stairs to the lower level, charging toward the entryway with all possible speed, Glorfindel at my heels. The stairs at least gave me a view of the entry hall, as well as the source of the discord.

Arwen was rushing toward the stairs, holding Legolas clenched in her arms as he kicked and flailed and shrieked, landing no few blows as they traveled. She cried out as well, as his total effort was behind his counterassault, but she was not to be dissuaded and staggered a few more steps toward me, hands white-knuckled as she struggled to hang on to the small child. The noise stopped momentarily as Legolas twisted in her grip and managed to sink his teeth into her wrist.

This time it was Arwen who screamed so piercingly, and she abruptly released the child who landed on the stone floor with a thud that made me wince. Injuries did not seem to be his major concern, however. As Arwen examined her bitten wrist, Legolas bounced to his feet, whirled to face her and with another scream of utter fury charged directly into her, both arms extended before him, impacting into her midriff like a small battering ram.

Arwen replied with a most undignified sound of oooffff as this tiny whirlwind slammed into her, knocking her over backward to land on her much- admired backside. Legolas followed her descent so that when she looked up she found herself eye-to-eye with this little terror.

"YOU DON'T TOUCH ME!" it screamed, mere inches from her nose and bristling with fury. "YOU DON'T NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN! NOT EVER!" Legolas then continued with words one does not normally use in court, delivered with great passion and sincerity. I had wondered what vocabulary he might have, but this was never one I had considered.

"Ah, so he can speak," murmured Glorfindel behind me "Quite fluently, too. Ouch, where did he hear that one? I don't think that's physically possible." he mused. He seemed not at all concerned about this altercation.

"NOT EVER! OR I'LL BITE YOU ! I WILL!"

I saw Arwen's eyes widen with . was that fear? She tried to rise from the floor, I assumed in an attempt to retreat from this violent little elf, but she was yanked back down immediately. Legolas was standing on her skirt, it appeared.

"YOU GO AWAY! YOU GO AWAY AND YOU LEAVE ME ALONE! AND DON'T YOU NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!" Legolas howled at her again. Her eyes widened in sudden panic, and Arwen made a new effort to escape, once again finding her pinned skirts would not allow her to rise. She turned her fearful gaze toward me and cried out for rescue.

"Fatherrrrrr!"

I'm not certain when I halted on the staircase, but intervention seemed appropriate, and I began to run down the steps again. Glorfindel followed, of course. I could hear him choking, trying not to laugh. I had to admit to the humor of this surreal moment; Arwen, the Evenstar, the most beautiful and loved elven lady of Imladris was currently in a physical altercation with a tiny little wildling not a quarter of her size, and the little one was winning.

He was impressive: wet hair plastered to his cheeks, oversized little boy ears sticking out through the soggy strands, spine rigid, fists clenched, absolutely shaking with fury. The sight was truly comical in one so small. It wasn't until I saw those eyes that I realized what she was up against. They were dark, they were filled with rage and almost feral. I felt a chill seize me then.

Arwen saw it too, and decided that rescue was too far away. Grabbing her skirts in both hands she yanked - hard - pulling them out from under Legolas, sending him tumbling over backwards. This gained her a split second to scramble to her feet, but she was almost too slow. Legolas bounced back to his feet with far greater speed and took off after her again. Arwen shrieked once, then took flight, hurtling through the entryway and past me with a retreating cry of "Fatheeeer, heeeellllllp!" Glorfindel's choking evolved into full laughter.

I managed to intercept the little predator, catching him out of his pursuit as he hurtled past me. He struggled wildly, seemingly unaware of who held him in his passion to further assault my daughter.

"NOT NEVER!" he screeched, full volume, into my ear. I winced, then shoved him at the still laughing Glorfindel.

"Here. Deal with him," I snapped, shoving the screaming child into his arms. I heard him grunt in pain at some impact, probably boot to knee. I didn't look back to see, but took off to attend my battered daughter. The cry of "NEEVVVEERRRRRRR!" followed me as I left the room.

She hadn't run far, just into the inner hall where she stood sniffling and trying to smooth her skirts. She looked up as I entered, and stared at me as though in shock. "Father, he's gone mad," she advised me in a shocked whisper.

I smiled - I couldn't help it. "No, Arwen. I think we've just found he has his father's temper."

"Well, he's horrid. He is an absolutely horrid child."

I put my arm around her shoulders, and guided her toward a bench where we might rest for a moment. She was trembling, I noticed; Legolas had genuinely frightened her with the intensity of his anger.

The screaming was dying down. I hoped it was not due to the demise of Lord Glorfindel. "What happened, Arwen? What started all this?"

"I was--" She paused to draw in a shuddering breath. "I was bringing him to you. I thought he was hurt or - or dead! He was in that tree, just lying there in the rain, and he didn't move when I spoke to him, so I pulled him out and I was bringing him to you--" She broke off in tears, and I held her as she shuddered for a moment. She sniffed, then straightened up, though not out of my embrace, I noted. Parental reassurance was still desirable.

"He was just lying there in that tree. He was soaked. He didn't even move when I pulled him down. I thought he was hurt or dead. But when I got about halfway here he woke up and started kicking and screaming - Father, he was really frightening me!"

"Arwen, he was merely napping in the tree."

"Then why didn't he answer me? Why didn't he wake up when I moved him? Why--why was he sleeping in the RAIN!?"

"He likes sleeping in the rain. He wanders at night when Mithrandir is away, and he seems to feel secure enough to sleep in the tree during the day. The rain was warm enough and he was under the canopy of the leaves, so not that much reached him. I was watching him, and he was quite safe. I do appreciate your concern for him, though. That was very dear of you." I rewarded her with a kiss to the forehead, but she only glared at me.

"How was I to know that? Normal elves do not sleep in trees, most certainly not in the rain. And they wake up when you shout at them. That child is not normal."

"He's had a difficult time, Arwen."

"He BIT me! Look!" She thrust her dainty wrist beneath my nose, displaying matching crescents of indentations, deep and blue-grey, with surrounding redness.

"He certainly did."

"And he hit me. He knocked me down and shouted at me. And he's ruined my dress. Father, he threatened me"

"He did all of that," I agreed patiently. "But, Arwen, you frightened him. From what Mithrandir has told, me being hauled from a tree without warning was often the prelude to a very unpleasant confrontation for him."

"And my frightening him is excuse for his turning into a savage little animal and attacking me? What fear could justify that? You'd think they hauled him off and beat him the way he was fighting me."

"Arwen, they did."

That stopped her. She looked up at me, startled, seeking truth in my expression. "Mithrandir told me he actually interrupted one such event. As he watched, the elf pulled Legolas from a tree with enough force to dislocate his elbow, and then struck him several times to gain his cooperation. And he was being taken to his father for further disciplinary purposes at that time. You woke him from very deep sleep, it sounds, and the memories came forth first as he woke."

Horror, then comprehension then compassion; the emotions crossed her lovely features swiftly. I added the final detail, one I knew of personally. "Legolas father also has such a temper, and he was being dragged before him when Mithrandir stepped in and brought him to us. It was not the first such audience, daughter. I know he frightened you and hurt you," I added, caressing the bite marks with my thumb as I held her hand, "but do try to forgive him. He is a very frightened little elf."

"I'll forgive, but just see if I ever touch him again," she finally growled, sounding far from forgiving.

"That is all I ask." I stood then, pulling her to her feet. "Come, we best see what is left of Glorfindel. I shoved Legolas into his arms as I followed you, and the silence is beginning to worry me."

She laughed at that, then turned toward me, pleased. "You came to me first?"

"You are my dear daughter. Of course I followed you." Lest there be chaos and wailing for an inordinate length of time, I added silently, but she need not know my true motivation. Peace was what Rivendell was founded upon; best we not disturb it unnecessarily.

"On the positive side, you did get him to speak to us."

"Yes, but did you hear what he said? How could-- He said, used words-- Father, his language is - is--"

"Not acceptable," I finished for her. "Yes, we'll deal with that in due time. At least he is speaking, and I am pleased with that. I think."

"Father, what are you going to do with him?"

"I plan to keep him safe and contained until Mithrandir returns. Then we shall as him what he plans to do."

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The child was thrown bodily against me, still screaming in rage. I managed to snag an arm as he lunged after Arwen, and he spun to face me. His eyes were cold and frightening. Had he been an elf grown I would have been prepared to defend my very life. What could have produced such rage in someone so small? My thoughts were redirected as he lunged again against my hold, then turned to swing at me.

This was not the first irate elf I had restrained over my many years, though most were bigger. Anger of this intensity cannot be reasoned with; one must merely contain it until it burns itself out. And so I set about capturing this tiny whirlwind of fists and feet and flying silvery hair and blazing blue eyes. Yes, and teeth, I noted with a yelp, shaking him off my wrist.

I finally managed to get the hold I wanted, somewhere mid-torso, and spun him away from me to lock my arms about his chest. Pulling him securely against my chest I sank down to the chill stone of the entryway, holding him close as he screamed and fought against my hold.

"Peace, little one. Be at peace. No one will harm you here. No one is angry with you. Stop your fighting, there is no need for it now. Be still. Just be still.." I rocked him back and forth, whispering soothing words in his ear as he gradually calmed. Anger is often an overlay of fear, and as his fighting diminished, I recognized that his fury subsided into silent shivering. Or trembling.

Finally he lay still in my lap, cradled against me more than pinned there by my embrace. "Are you finished?" I asked softly. He stared at the floor for a moment, then offered a hesitant nod. "If I let go, are you going to hit me?" This time the head shook in a negative reply. "Very well, I'm going to let go now." And I did, slowly opening my arms and allowing him to stand.

I turned him to face me, noting the troubled expression and the tracks of tears that had fallen while I could not see his face. I reached up to wipe them away, but he twisted away, just out of reach.

"That was quite a speech, little one," I began. "Where did you learn all those words." He hunched in on himself, evidently well aware that those were not the appropriate means of expressing himself. "I think I learned a new word or two," I added, "and I know many not-nice words." He canted an eye toward me, as though trying to gauge my reaction and just how much trouble he was in.

"I'm sorry I bit you."

"I am too. It hurt."

"Sorry," he repeated, though this apology was directed to his toes.

"Are you really sorry?" I asked. "Sorry enough to promise not to bite me again?"

He nodded. "Really sorry. Won't bite you again."

"What about Arwen?"

"I'll bite her if she touches me." His anger flared back into life with surprising suddenness.

"She must have frightened you very badly."

He looked up at me, startled.

"Sometimes we get angry when we're scared. And I think she scared you when she took you out of the tree." He didn't reply, but tears suddenly welled up in those blue eyes. "She did, didn't she. Did someone else pull you out of trees?"

Nod.

"And did something bad happen then?"

Pause, then nod. A tear broke free to trace down one cheek, followed by it's mate down the other cheek.

I pulled him into my arms, hugging him close. It was an impulsive move I thought better of the moment I reached for him, but other than stiffening initially he allowed the contact. I was surprised, and honored by his trust for some strange reason, holding him protectively in my arms.

"Nothing like that will happen here. I, Lord Glorfindel, defender of Imladris, of the House of the Golden Flower, promise you that nothing like that will ever happen here." It sounded appallingly pompous to my ears, but it seemed to impress my young charge immensely, as those worried blue eyes grew huge and round at my words.

"No, nothing like that will ever happen here, young Legolas."

We both jumped at the new voice, and found Lord Elrond and a rather watery, rumpled Arwen peeking around from behind him. Her hair was in disarray, her nose was red, her skirt was wet and wrinkled, and smooth at it though she might, she could not erase the hand prints over either hip bone, nor the muddy footprints up the left side. This was Arwen as we'd never seen her before. I knew it was a mistake, but I had to laugh.

She scowled at me, then at Legolas, proving we were now both in her ill graces. And the child in my arms growled at her. Growled. I looked down in shock and shook him slightly. "No. Put the anger aside now and behave."

"Legolas, are you all right?" Elrond asked, from a safe distance of several feet. The child nodded, tearing his glare away from Arwen long enough to meet Elrond's eyes. "Arwen misunderstood. She thought you were hurt because you were sleeping in the tree in the rain. She wanted only to bring you to me, to help you."

The glare intensified. Elrond looked uncomfortable, and Arwen somewhere between injured and apprehensive, clearly ready to flee at any moment.

"She shouldn't have touched me," he finally spat at Elrond, then turned toward Arwen with a stamp of one small foot. "You go away! You don't touch me again."

"That," she replied primly, "Is not a problem. Just see if I ever come anywhere near you again." And with this formal pronouncement, she turned and swept off down the hallway with as much dignity as her tattered appearance and the large dusty spot on her backside would allow.

Elrond watched her go, then turned back toward this newfound little terror and sighed. "Legolas, we cannot have that kind of behavior here. Not ever. I understand that you were angry--"

"And very frightened, and not fully awake," I interjected in his defense.

"True. We understand, little one," he continued, stern expression softening a bit. "But that is not the way to react. We cannot bite people, Legolas. Not ever."

He looked somewhat downcast, but the anger still thrummed through him, so I doubted he was overly repentant just yet.

"Promise me you won't bite again."

"She better not touch me."

"She will not. I have her promise on this. Now I need one from you. Promise me, Legolas. There will be no more biting."

He studied his toes, my toes, the stones beneath our feet.anything and everything other than Lord Elrond.

"Legolas?" I knew that voice. It demanded - and received - obedience from the most unruly of elves and men. But the silence stretched out and I began to wonder if this little elf was actually able to face down the lord of Imladris.

"I promise," he whispered finally. "I won't bite."

"And will you apologize to Arwen?"

"No." Flat, absolute and nonnegotiable. Was this to fall under the category of defiance? I dared look at Elrond, who gave me a faint shrug that carried 'what can I do' connotations about it. I didn't blame him; I wouldn't want to continue a head-on confrontation with this child of steel either.

Elrond hesitated, then nodded. "Would you like to return to your tree now?"

He considered this for a moment, then turned and marched from the hall every inch the prince that he was. The word regal came to my mind as I watched the dignified departure of this elfling.

"No?" I asked of Elrond once he was out of the door.

"It was phrased in the form of a question, so his refusal is not direct defiance," he hedged. "And I have no wish to fight that particular battle today."

"I doubt you'd win." I watched as the small elf reached his tree and scrambled back into the shelter of its branches. Elrond watched as well, though he didn't seem as amused as I. "A peculiar child, " I observed, "but very entertaining."

"What am I to do with this?" he burst out "The child was quite out of control."

"The child was terrified. He fought to defend himself. Granted, against the wrong foe," I amended, holding up one hand to forestall the obvious objections.

"Arwen is quite traumatized by the entire event."

"Arwen needs to stop grabbing him. That would help their relationship immensely."

He nodded, then turned to pace back to his library, definitely in need of the sanctuary. I followed, of course.

"We learned he will speak to us at need, and in complete sentences. This is a positive thing."

"It would be gratifying if he would use words acceptable for conversation and a tone of voice that didn't imply imminent death."

"This is true, but we must start someplace. And I must confess I find his vocabulary most complete," I laughed. It earned me a dark glare, but there were hints of a smile with it.

"I doubt some of it is physically possible. I haven't heard such cursing since the night you stuffed Isildur's sword in the privy."

"We, Lord Elrond. WE attended to that sword."

"I merely distracted him. You were responsible for selecting the site of its repose," Elrond replied smoothly.

"You were a full accomplice, whether you choose to confess it or not. He was most irate, however, and I can appreciate your willingness to deflect your share of the outrage."

"And this little one could match him in his anger," Elrond sighed. "We learned today that he can and will express himself when provoked, and we learned he has a temper."

"You feel he shares he shares his father's temper."

Elrond flinched visibly as the words made reality of the thought ghosting about his mind. He settled into his chair and peered hopefully into his abandoned wine goblet, checking the level of wine within. "This is not a pleasant discovery. Thranduil is known for his rages, and I do not relish having one so blessed - or cursed- within my household."

I poured more wine into his cup and mine, then settled back, trying to order my thoughts. Over the balcony rail I could see the little elf curled up against the tree trunk rather than sprawled across the branches as he was when relaxed. Today's activities had taken a toll upon him as well. I hoped we had not set his confidence back too far.

"I do not think this is quite Thranduil's temper," I commented slowly. "Thranduil knows his rage and wields it as a weapon upon occasion. Other times it is simply how he chooses to express himself. He puts no rein upon his anger because he feels no need to, and therefore it feeds upon itself and multiplies, both in intensity and frequency of appearance."

Elrond scowled into his goblet. "I know this. I know Thranduil. I knew his father, and his elder sons. The family temper breeds true. You saw this tonight."

"I saw a child with a temper frightened out of his wits. This was a fight for survival in his mind, not a tantrum."

"That could hardly be classed as a mere tantrum."

"No, it was that child choosing to survive and defend himself. I think this one has possibilities. I think that temper can be harnessed and directed. This one is a warrior, Elrond."

The skeptical look he gave me was shortened by his turning to look at the child huddled in the tree. "I have my doubts. He is violent, unpredictable and antisocial in the extreme."

"He regained control. He was willing to interact and to bow to your leadership afterward. And yet he maintained his own personal boundaries. I believe he is trainable. Even more, I think this one has potential."

"How can you say that with only that much to go on?"

"The same way you can judge the horse that will be from a weanling. I think he has potential *if* he's trained. We will harness the temper and school it, just like a difficult horse's temper. You will see." I smiled and turned my goblet in my hands.

"Not unlike Naur, is it? You do like the challenges, don't you. The difficult ones."

Glorfindel only smiled.

"You'll have to take it up with Mithrandir."

"Of course."

"But you give me hope that this wild child can be tamed."

CHAPTER SEVEN

I was in trouble. I was in more trouble now than I could ever have imagined. I hit Lord Glorfindel. I had bit Arwen. I yelled at Lord Elrond. I used the words Gerdan told me never, ever to say if I wasn't with the soldiers. This was really awful.

I was so scared when she pulled me out of the tree. I thought it was Galion again. Really, I thought it was him and I just wanted to get away. I've bitten him before. I made him bleed sometimes, and I'm not sorry either. I'm not sorry I bit the Elf Lady.but I shouldn't have bitten Arwen. The Big Elves like Arwen, and now everyone is angry with me and they'll tell Mithrandir what a .what did Arwen call me? Horrid. They'll tell him I'm a horrid little elf and then he'll know and he'll send me home again, and then it WILL be Galion pulling me out of the tree again."

I couldn't help it. I hadn't felt this bad since I met Mithrandir, maybe ever. I leaned against the trunk of the tree, pressing my face against the rough, wet bark. It wasn't Mith's beard, but it was as close as I could come. At least the tree still liked me. The tears started falling then, and I couldn't help crying. Galion was right. I am . am all of those things he said, and Arwen said, and Father said..

"Little elf, are you awake?"

It was Glorfindel. My heart dropped down into my stomach and that began to roll over. Scared. Scaredscaredscared --I bit him too! They sent him to fetch me in, I decided. They have figured out what to do with me, and he's come to bring me in so they can tell me and send me away.

"Could I come up?"

He didn't sound mad. I was startled, and leaned over to peer down at him through the leaves. I suppose I wasn't as high as I thought, because he wasn't very far below me. He saw me, then, and he smiled. Then he grabbed a branch and pulled himself up. Within just a moment he was seated beside me in the tree. Maybe I should get down? He could grab me and--

He smiled sadly, then reached over to brush his fingers across my cheeks. I was too scared and worried to move, but his touch was kind and gentle, almost like Mith's.

"I thought you might be upset," he said softly. "I don't want you to worry about anything. You're not in trouble. No one is upset with you."

That was the silliest thing I'd ever heard from a grown elf. How could they not be angry with me after all the awful things I'd just done. I bet I could just jump straight down and land well enough..

"We understand, Legolas. You were scared, and you were angry and you answered in the only way you knew how."

I could only stare at him. He sounded like he meant that. He smiled again, and it was kind of sad and kind of friendly all at once.

"You have a temper. You get angry. We all do, some time or another. But we don't have to act the way you did tonight. We can control it and use it in other ways."

I guess he meant 'don't do that again,' but I wasn't sure.

"I can teach you how to act more appropriately when you are angry, if you'd like. I can show you what to do instead."

I considered this, then turned away. "Have to go now."

"We will talk again later, then."

I shook my head, as he didn't understand. "No later. I have to go away."

"You want to leave Imladris?" He sounded surprised, but his eyes looked sad when I looked over at him.

"No, but I have to. I.I bit Arwen and hit her and said bad things and yelled at Lord Elrond."

"That's all true, but that will all work out well enough. You'll see."

"They won't want me to stay." I didn't mean to sound as sad as I did, but it was hard to say that, and even harder to think of it.

He reached out then and touched my hair, stroking it like he did his horse's mane. "You are not going to leave Imladris, little one, and you are most certainly not going back to Mirkwood, if that is where your guilty thoughts are leading you. You live here. And here you stay. And starting tomorrow, I'm going to teach you things."

He smiled, and patted my shoulder and hopped out of the tree. Just kind of stood up and slid to the ground. I have to climb higher next time.

"Come in soon so you'll be dry in time for dinner." He waved and walked back toward the hall. I could see Lord Elrond at the balcony watching us, and he didn't look too angry any more, just interested.

Maybe it would be forgiven after all?