Love of Thy Father (5?)
Note: To fill in a slight plot gap here, mainly because the scene would spoil the story, after the spider left They had been persuaded to wait the rest of the day by Glorfidel. The night had been successfully employed by the trio in Legolas' wines, while Glorfindel supervised their provisions ect ect. Thanks!
Reviewers:
Anariel:- Thanks very much, you made my week with this review!
The Reviewer without a name:- Then I'll have to change my threat, ne? Thanks.
Liyanette:- Here's another chapter, so don't forget to review!
Star-Stallion:- Thanks for reminding me about this fic! I have too many of the things on the go, so this part is all for you honey!
Revised Standard Threat:- Review or Legolas' hair goes Eminem! MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!
Key:-
Elvish
"Common tounge"
:Thoughts:
'Orcish'
It was a widely known fact that the House of Oropher had an unfortunate liking for Wine. It was also unfortunate that the sons of the same house could be decidedly moody and violent when they had partaken of their extensive wine stores, Aragorn reflected fingering a bruise on his cheek that had very nearly been a black eye caused by Legolas' fist connecting with the side of his head the night before, when he'd dared to repete his suggestion that their children may be dead already.
Aragorn noticed dimly, as he waded through his fogged mind, that all the elves, even Glorfindel, were being especially courteous to their leader. He chuckled, although there was only a little mirth in the sound and Gimli gave him a similar sort of smile. The dwarf had not gone unscathed the night before, for while he had not been physically harmed, Aragorn knew from years of experience that Legolas Thraundilion's bark could do more damage to eardrums than his bite. Gimli gestured in the direction of their blonde friend with the breifest of nods. He appeared to be lecturing Glorfindel on the governing of the kingdom, to contact Elladan and Elrohir too keep up their patrols and many more insignificant things. For his part, Glorfindel, slayer of Balrogs and lord of the golden flower, wore the expression of a child that was being given instructions by his mother on how to behave for the fiftieth time.
"He would frighten Sauron with a face like that." Gimli muttered through his beard, and they both had to stifle a laugh.
"He frightens me with a face like that!" Aragorn admitted loud enough for the elf to hear as Legolas turned his sharp grey eyes on them. Absurdly, Aragorn felt relief when he spotted the grim smile in his face. For a moment in the early morning mist that had yet to rise, and the still perpetual gloom of Mirkwood, it had seemed to Aragorn that it was Thraundil standing there as he watched his youngest son ride away with a young ranger on a scouting mission to train the human. But Thraunduil had never smiled at him, not even in the sad but determined way his friend now did. It was Gimli's stifled chuckles that finally broke him out of the long past. With an annoyed 'tut' Legolas mounted his horse smoothly, before turning back to them with a slightly more genuine smile.
"Well, Children," Legolas grinned, using the old nickname that had needled the whole Fellowship for the first months "time for a Treasure hunt."
Gimli laughed a little too loudly as he allowed himself to be pulled up behind Legolas in the saddle, and Aragorn chuckled to himself as he nudged his own steed to catch up with the Dwarf and Elf. Songs of luck rang out loudly in the forest that day as they began their quest.
Glorfindel stopped singing as the three Lords left his sight. One thing worried at him as he ordered elves back to their duties. It nagged at him until he was finally forced to admit it to himself. Their laughter and smiles and jokes, as natural as they had seemed...What worried him was simple, but he interpreted it as significant.
Not one of them, not even Legolas had returned those wishes of good luck.
Lothlorn was suspicious. They'd stopped in the earliest hours of the morning and the Orcs had left them alone. The sounds of the forest were strange to him, yet still they screamed so much of home. They called to him as an elvish prince, wanted him to stay with them, wanted him to lift the darkness. How could he do that when he couldn't lift the spirits of his own heart?
I'm sorry, he whispered into the cold air that cooled his sweaty skin and removed, if only for now, the smell of Orc from his nose I'm so very sorry.
Footsteps.
He heard the light steps before he heard the deep voice and the swishing of robes. To whom are you appologising? it asked in the high tounge.
He found the blindfold frustrating at the best of times, but none more so than now. He couldn't see to whom he was speaking, so couldn't trust them. Lothlorn reminded himself that he had, after all, been kidnapped, so trusting anyone was out of the question. He kept his mouth firmly shut.
I don't do this to hurt you, Lothlorn. I hope that you and I can come to some sort of understanding, maybe friends. A warm hand that was not thick and calloused like the Orcs, but light, smooth and fine, was laid companionably on his shoulder. Were you not your fathers son, you would not be here at all. and with that both the presence and the hand were removed, leaving Lothlorn Legolaion far more confused than before. It did not even occur to him until they began to move again to wonder where Alleria and Gertol were.
