Returning From The Dead

by Elf Eye

Another in "The Nameless One" series. Set after "Revenge."

28. A Lumpy Mattress

She's baaaa-aaack—again! First, I'd like to acknowledge the following reviewers, although without, I am afraid, the usual personalized responses (when you see how loooong this installment is, you'll understand why I'm calling this chapter quits without composing a note to each reviewer): Karri, Grumpy, Gil-neth, Farflung, Melissa, Dragonfly, Joee, and Kitsune. Hope I didn't overlook anyone. My apologies if I did.

I would also like to extend congratulations to Joee and Dragonfly, both of whom succeeded in grasping the 'gold ring' as they rode this merry-go-round of a story. They noticed errors that leave me blushing. After all, I wrote the story about Legolas baking a cake, so I of all people should know better than to call it "Estel's cake"! Also, no matter how alliterative and repetitious the genealogies get, I know perfectly well that the Dúnadain were not really be so unimaginative as to name any of their sons "Aragorn son of Aragorn" (in spite of my jokes about Halbarad son of Halbarad son of Halbarad son of Halbarad).

Anyway, as per promise, I now owe Joee and Dragonfly a story apiece. Here's a reminder of the ground rules: No slash. Nothing above PG-13. No character deaths if they would be non-canonical (I will not kill off Elrond, Thranduil, Gimli, etc., etc., etc.). O.K. So throw your worst at me—within those parameters, of course. As for the rest of you, keep hunting—I'm sure to commit other literary offenses!

Legolas sat waiting upon his horse as Thranduil exchanged a few last words of farewell with the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. Anyone looking at the young Prince of Greenwood would have thought him remarkably composed, but in truth he was not. Outwardly, Legolas had taken the news calmly when Thranduil told him that Elladan and Elrohir would not be traveling with him to Mirkwood and that Haldir and his brothers would accompany him but would not be remain there more than a few days. Inwardly, however, Legolas was not so sanguine. He knew that he was sure to be the center of attention at the Great Hall. He had been well known in Lothlórien, albeit as Anomen, but he had had no special status other than as the foster-son of Elrond. Each time he had visited, he had dwelt in that golden land in a kind of comfortable anonymity. It would not be so in Mirkwood! As soon as his identity was revealed, he was sure to be gazed upon and speculated over by everyone. For weeks he had been assuming that he would be able to hide within the sanctuary provided by a cluster of friends and foster-kin, but now he knew that this was not to be so. For the most part, he was going to have to rely upon his own devices, bereft of his protective cordon of boon companions. This would not have been so bad if he had made friends in Mirkwood as a youth, but among the younger Elves he had become well acquainted only with Tawarmaenas. Most of his age-mates would be as strange to him as if he had never dwelt a day in Mirkwood.

A sigh briefly broke past Legolas' calm facade as he thought wistfully of his foster-brothers, who a week ago had sadly set out for Imladris. Gandalf had insisted that it would be easier for Legolas to make his own departure from Lothlórien if he were not leaving behind in that land two of those whom he counted amongst his most belovéd friends, and so the twins had reluctantly ridden hence. The final few hours that they had been able to spend as family had been bittersweet ones.

It had been evening, and Legolas and his two foster-brothers were in sole possession of Haldir's flet. Because the Imladris Elves would set out for Rivendell the next day, the Lórien Elves, without being asked, had made themselves scarce so that Legolas, Elladan, and Elrohir could spend these last hours together without let or hindrance. At first there was little that they wanted to say to one another; merely being in one another's company was enough. And so they lay upon their pallets, gazing up at the stars. The Norland sky was remarkably clear that night.

"Look," said Elladan. "There is the constellation of Nénar the Waters. And yonder are the Great Jewel and Elemmírë the Elf-treasure."

"I can see both Borgil the Red Star and Luinil the Blue Friend," observed Elrohir.

As for Legolas, he spotted and pointed out Helluin, the star of Blue Ice, and Lumbar, the Star that Dwells in Gloom.

"You would pick out the two saddest stars in the sky," exclaimed Elladan, "but, see, there is Flammifer, the ship of Eärendil."

"Bearer of Gil-Estel, Star of Hope," said Elrohir.

"Aye," murmured Legolas, "sailing across the heavens, lit by a Silmaril, greatest of jewels. Sailing, sailing, forever sailing," he chanted.

Elrohir looked over at him, his attention captured by the melancholy in his friend's voice.

"Should you like to go sailing someday, Legolas?"

"I do not know," Legolas replied thoughtfully, "but some say that it will be the fate of all Elves to sail to the Uttermost West, back to the Undying Lands from whence we came."

"Not all Elves," Elladan pointed out. "Our uncle chose to become mortal, to remain in Middle Earth for ever. It was a bitter parting when it came time for our father to bid him farewell. Come dawn, we will say good-bye to you, but we will surely see you again, even if many years must pass first. But once our father parted from his brother, they never saw each other again."

"The choice of the Morningstar," said Elrohir.

"Aye," replied Elladan, "and our grandmother Galadriel says it will be the choice of the Evenstar. I do not know of whom she speaks, but she says that by a loss borne by some the kingship of Men may yet be restored."

Legolas knew the story both of Elrond's brother and of the Morningstar. Elrond and Elros had been born of a union between the Elf-maiden Elwing, daughter of Nimloth and Dior, and the mortal Eärendil, son of Idril and Tuor. This is why Elrond and Elros were known as Peredhil, Half-elven, and why they had confronted a choice few others faced. It had rested upon them to decide upon either of two paths: to retain immortality but someday forfeit Middle Earth or to become mortal and never leave the embrace of Arda. The two brothers had chosen different paths and thus had been sundered for all time. Elladan and Elrohir would one day be called upon to make the same choice, as would Arwen. Elrond's children were gifted with immortality as long as that Elf lord remained in Middle Earth. Once he made ready to depart for the Grey Havens, his children would have to decide whether to renounce either Arda or the gift of the Eldar—and mayhap either a father or a sibling.

The tale of Eärendil and Elwing and their sons Elros and Elrond was in a way a continuation of that of the Morningstar; for Dior, father of Elwing, had himself been born of the union between Beren, a mortal Man, and the Elf-Maiden Lúthien. She it was who had been called the Morningstar, the Nightingale who sang at dawn, at the hour twixt darkness and light.

Lúthien Tinúviel. Princess of Doriath. Lady of Enchanting Beauty and Daughter of Twilight. Although the descendant of Elwë-Thingol and Melian, she had chosen the Doom of Men in order to be united with her belovéd. In the eyes of the Elves, she had embraced the briefest of spans—the time allotted to Mankind—yet she had sworn that no matter how brief, she would rather live one life with her mortal lover than an eternity without him. "I have made my choice," she declared when her kinsmen begged her to reconsider her decision.

As Legolas thought of Elros and Elrond and Lúthien Tinúviel, his own plight became easier to bear. Elladan was right. True, it was bitter to be thus separated, but their parting would lack the finality that Lúthien faced when she renounced her immortal life—and thereby her kin—in to become one with Beren. And then, having forfeited elvenkind in order to embrace her mortal lover, she was doomed to be separated from him as well, for it was her fate to enter into the eternal sleep of Mankind. But some Men, and even some Elves, believed that one day Lúthien Tinúviel would be reunited with her belovéd. In Gondor it had been written in a book of wisdom that "In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! We are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory." Perhaps for neither Elf nor Man would any farewell last forever. And that was a comforting thought.

Elladan interrupted his reverie.

"Legolas, Elrohir and I each wish you to carry something to remember us by."

Elladan drew forth a blade from a scabbard at his belt and handed it to Legolas. Elrohir likewise drew forth a knife and laid it before his foster-brother. Legolas knew that these were not the weapons that the two usually carried. Instead, they were heirlooms of their House, brought out only upon special occasions. Legolas was well acquainted with their story and had been wondering why they had chosen to wear such valuable knives when no great Imladris ceremony was in the offing.

Awed, Legolas held up Elladan's knife and studied it.

"This blade is one of a matched pair once borne by Elwë-Thingol, your great-great-great grandfather. They passed through the hands of Lúthien, who gave them to her son Dior. He entrusted them to Eärendil when he espoused Dior's daughter Elwing, and then they passed on to the care of Elrond. Are you sure you wish to give them to me? They are a mighty gift."

"You will have need of them," Elrohir said simply.

"How come you to know that?" asked Legolas, gazing at him steadily.

Elladan answered.

"The Lady Galadriel this day vouchsafed us a vision in her Mirror. Elrohir is right: It is you who should carry these blades. You will make good use of them."

"Besides," added Elrohir, "they started out as a pair and should remain a pair. Of the three of us, you are by far the best at two-bladed combat and will use them most judiciously."

Legolas drew his own pair of knives from his quiver, where he preferred to keep them—"I can draw them hence faster than from any scabbard," he had explained to a dubious Glorfindel—and he handed one to Elladan, the other to Elrohir. They examined them appreciatively. Legolas was famous for the meticulous care he took of his weapons.

"Ah," joked Elrohir, "now I shall remember you whenever I slit an Orc throat."

Legolas grimaced.

"I should prefer you to think of me when you walk in the garden!"

"Oh," smirked Elladan, "lately Elrohir has had other things on his mind when he slips into the garden."

Legolas scowled.

"And I suppose Erestor does not follow you into the bushes."

"Indeed he does not!" exclaimed Elrohir.

"But if he did," hooted Elladan, "Elrohir would give him an eyeful. Our brother has no shame!"

"Then it is good that Erestor does," rejoined Legolas.

"Actually," said Elrohir, lowering his voice, "I happened to come upon Erestor in the garden one day in the company of an Elleth visiting from Lórien, and you may be interested to learn—"

"I'm not list-en-ing," sang Legolas, covering his ears. "La la la tra lala!"

"—that they were not even holding hands!"

Legolas lowered his own hands.

"Oh," he said, a little disappointed.

"—because they had gone straight to kissing!"

"Elrohir!"

"It's true," declared Elladan. "I was up in a tree and saw it all."

"What were you doing up in a tree?"

"I was supposed to be Erestor's lookout, but no sooner had I settled myself comfortably when into the garden came Elrohir and his lady. I would say that they have been long acquainted, else Erestor is remarkably forward—and the lady, too, I might add."

"I wonder where our father holds his trysts," mused Elrohir. "Certainly not in the garden or we would have come upon him by now."

"Does no one ever think of staying within their chambers!?" huffed Legolas.

"Of course not, silly," Elrohir shot back. "That's the first place that anyone would look!"

"And therefore the last place," Legolas pointed out triumphantly.

"He's right," Elladan exclaimed. "No one would think to look for lovers in a bedchamber! It's just not done."

Elrohir's face was a study. The bedchamber! What a novel idea! Why had he never thought of it before?

A mourning dove called then, and the trio instantly sobered.

"Dawn is near," said Legolas quietly.

Elladan and Elrohir said nothing, but each shifted his pallet a little close to Legolas, who lay between them. The three again lay looking up at the stars.

"Gil-Estel is setting," observed Elrohir.

"Aye," said Elladan, "but it will rise again tomorrow eve."

"Yes," said Legolas, "as it ever has."

And they said no more until they heard voice of Haldir when he came to summon Elladan and Elrohir to break fast with the Elves departing for Rivendell.

That was morning a week ago, and now Legolas sat upon his mount. His father had completed his farewells and reining his horse about, cantered up to where Legolas waited by the side of Gandalf. At least, Legolas consoled himself, the wizard was with him. True, the presence of the wizard would not relieve him of the task of becoming acquainted with his future subjects, but at least he would have his old friend and mentor to counsel and comfort him. Furthermore, Gandalf would serve as a sort of buffer between Legolas and his father. Legolas had grown quite comfortable in the company of his father, but there were still moments of strain. He did not know if he would ever fly to Gandalf for solace after a tense exchange with his father, but it was nice to know that he could.

As the column of Elves began to move out, Legolas twisted about on his horse in an effort to catch sight of Haldir and his brothers. Celeborn had ordered them to bring up the rear—no doubt another effort, Legolas thought gloomily, to accustom him to their absence. His elders had considered everything to a nicety, weighing and measuring all options, and, while he knew they wished to spare him as much pain as possible, sometimes he wished that they would leave him and his friends to their own devices.

"We would hoist a final goblet of Dorwinion," he muttered, "sing through the night, and at dawn stagger off toward our respective designations. That way we would be too tired to grieve."

"And also too tired to adjust gracefully to your new situation," Gandalf broke in.

"I don't want to be graceful," said Legolas defiantly. "I want to go home. I want to be with my friends and kin."

"First check," thought Gandalf to himself. Aloud he said, "I had been under the impression that you were returning home to friends and family."

Legolas stared balefully at the wizard.

"You know what I mean, Gandalf."

Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw Thranduil tactfully rein his horse about and withdraw further down the column. He felt instantly ashamed of himself, for he knew he was behaving as petulantly as an elfling.

Gandalf looked sideways at his young friend and perceived that the young Elf had already realized that he had spoken with little thought or care for the feelings of others.

"No need to pile on the words of wisdom," he said to himself. "And after all, he must have some occasion for expressing his frustration."

They rode side by side in silence for a time. Gandalf at last spoke.

"You may be interested to know that we will be stopping for at least one night at the dwelling of Beorn the Shape-changer. As we are being escorted by his ever-vigilant horses, it seemed the polite thing to do. Besides, it would provide an opportunity for you to meet a near neighbor and, it is to be hoped, a future ally."

"Will we?" exclaimed Legolas. "I know now 'twas Beorn's father protected me from wolves when I fled Mirkwood. I shall be glad of the opportunity to express my gratitude to his son."

"So you approve of our decision?" Gandalf said slyly.

Legolas could not help but laugh.

"Oh, very well. I concede that you often know what is best for me—as does my father and Celeborn and Galadriel and Elrond and Erestor and Glorfindel. There now! Have I omitted anyone from the list?"

Gandalf laughed, too. Hearing them, Thranduil rejoined them and was rewarded by a cheery grin from his son.

"The storm has passed, Ada."

"No," corrected Gandalf. "That was no storm but a mere breeze. Storms and gales are yet in your future. But I have no doubt but that you shall weather them!"

They rode on, all as reasonably cheerful as could be expected. And now Legolas had Beorn to look forward to.

As they drew near Beorn's settlement, Legolas was as fascinated by the scene as Tawarmaenas had been. First they heard a loud humming and came upon the enormous bees that tirelessly collected pollen from the flowers that bloomed in the 'bee-pastures', returning thence to their hives to manufacture copious amounts of the delicious honey for which Beorn was famous. Next they came to the stand of tall oak trees and beyond them saw the wooden gate that permitted passage through the otherwise impenetrable thorn-hedge. Once inside, they admired the gardens and stables and sheds and hives and waited politely while one of Beorn's clever horses went to fetch him from the long wooden house where their master dwelt. When Beorn appeared, Thranduil saluted him respectfully.

"Master Beorn, I must thank you for your kindness in once again providing my folk with an escort. In our company is one for whom I particularly welcome such an escort. If I may, I would like to be allowed to introduce you to my son and heir, Prince Legolas."

Legolas stepped forward and bowed deeply.

Beorn inclined his head and then looked him up and down.

"So this is the princeling that my father encountered so many years ago. You are a little bigger than he described. You have eaten honey and bread enough, I wager—and some of it provided by my father."

"Indeed, yes, Master Beorn," replied Legolas. "Gandalf has told me 'twas your father not only saved me from wolves but gifted me with a generous breakfast. I should have been the wolves' breakfast else. I am very grateful."

Suddenly he knelt upon the ground and drew one of his blades, presenting it with its handle toward the Shape-changer.

"Little service, no doubt, will so great a Shape-changer think to find in a young Elf who has scarcely come of age; yet such as it is, I will offer it, in payment of my debt to your father."

Beorn was both amused and touched, and Thranduil was proud of his son's gracious behavior. As for Gandalf, his mind ran to the more practical.

"Good," he thought, "the nobility of this gesture will surely bind Beorn to Legolas even if Beorn's own innate generosity had not done so."

After being very well-entertained by Beorn and his servants for not one but three nights, Gandalf and the Elves left rather reluctantly to cover the final stage of their journey. They had been fair rolling in honey and bread and sweet butter and clotted cream, and Thranduil joked that he would have to be hoisted onto his horse if he stayed another day—"and that only if my steed will consent to bear me, which I doubt!" Legolas was reluctant to leave on two scores. First, he regretted parting from Beorn, whom he had accompanied each day to the bee-pastures, where Shape-changer and Elf had worked companionably together, to the great pleasure of both. Second, this day would bring them to Greenwood and the Great Hall. Legolas rode close to Gandalf as they departed Beorn's land, and he well nigh attached himself to the wizard like a burr as they drew near to the outlying trees of the forest of Northern Mirkwood. He also grew quieter with every mile that they traveled. As they had approached Thranduil's kingdom, all the Elves had been ordered to cover their hair, but Legolas had pulled his hood down so far that his face could be scarcely seen. Moreover, he rode with his head down. If his horse had not been elven, no doubt it would have stumbled and gone lame by now, so little heed did Legolas pay to it. Gandalf spared a kindly glance for his young companion.

"Legolas, do you remember how nervous you were before the first dance that you attended in the Hall of Fire?"

"Oh, yes. I did not want to go, and when it was plain that I was expected to be there, I wanted to find a way to avoid the attentions of the maidens."

"Yes. In fact, you asked me if I could cast a spell upon you to make you ugly for the evening."

Legolas grinned sheepishly.

"Yet in the end," continued Gandalf, "you enjoyed yourself greatly, if I recall correctly."

Legolas had to admit that this was true. As he thought of Malthenrî, whom he had met that night, he unconsciously touched his lips, until he saw Gandalf gazing at him in his inimitable fashion, his face serious but his eyes laughing. Quickly the Elf dropped his hand to his side. Gandalf laughed.

"I see," he said with mock gravity, "that Malthenrî gave you something to remember her by."

"Gandalf!" protested Legolas.

Now Gandalf laughed outright.

"Ah, Legolas, Legolas, how young you are!"

"Gandalf, at my next birthday, I will be—"

"No! No!" interrupted the wizard. "You are being too literal—hasn't Erestor taught you better than that!"

Legolas blushed a little.

"I am sorry, Gandalf. I suppose you mean that I am 'young' as in 'inexperienced'."

"In some ways, yes, you are naïve to the point of innocence—a remarkable accomplishment on your part, given that you have been consorting with Elladan and Elrohir these past several centuries."

"Especially Elrohir," opined Legolas.

"Ah, not so naïve after all if you understand the difference between Elrohir and Elladan! Elrohir is—how shall I say it?—

"Erestor says Elrohir is 'as lecherous as a sparrow'."

"Did he? Good for Erestor. Nice to see him applying his literary knowledge to everyday life—although I do not understand why sparrows are always tarred with the brush of licentiousness. I have always that that the behavior of snakes would provide a better metaphor for sensual indulgence, for they remain intertwined for hours."

"Gandalf!"

"My, my," teased the wizard. "Aren't we ejaculating frequently today!"

Thranduil rode up just then. He gazed quizzically at Legolas, whose face had turned a fiery red.

"Legolas, perhaps you should remove your cloak. You look a little overheated."

Legolas muttered something about needing to feel a breeze upon his face, wheeled his horse about, and galloped off.

Gandalf smiled.

"I think, Thranduil, that the heightened color of his face has its roots merely in the hot blood of youth."

"The hot blood of youth? Ah, yes, of course. That puts me in mind of something I have been meaning to ask you, Mithrandir. Whilst in Rivendell, did Legolas form any, ah, 'attachments'? I mean any serious attachments of, oh, shall we say, a romantic nature?"

"That depends on how you define 'romantic', I suppose."

"I mean, he hasn't put himself in the position of being, well, beholden to one or another of the maidens. He is not under any obligation to someone in Rivendell? Or in Lórien, for that matter?"

"I do not know if one would say that Legolas was 'beholden' to her, but he was spending his endings in the company of one maiden in particular."

Thranduil turned a little pale.

"Spending his evenings?"

"Yes—always under the eye of Erestor, of course. In plain view. In bushes but well-trimmed ones."

Thranduil relaxed visibly.

"Ah, no encumbrances, then."

"Oh, I would not say that, Thranduil. The two seemed to be very fond of one another."

Thranduil waved his hand dismissively.

"Yes, yes. But they have not committed any indiscretion that would place any constraints upon Legolas in the matter of choosing a bride."

"As I have said, they seemed very fond of one another—that is a kind of constraint, is it not? And, if I may say so, Malthenrî is eminently well suited to be Legolas' bride—exceptionally, so, really. She is clever, spirited, and brave—just the sort of elleth who would be the equal of your clever, spirited, and brave son."

"Malthenrî? Malthenrî? I do not recall that name. Who is her father?"

"I doubt you'd recall his name either. But her uncle is Glorfindel.'

"The balrog-slayer?"

"The same."

"That's good. But her father? Her mother? Is he a lord? She a lady?"

"They are both noble in disposition and bearing—generous, honest, compassionate, and brave."

"But not noble in name or blood?"

"Noble in neither name nor blood. Merely noble in deed."

Thranduil failed to catch the wizard's sarcasm us he uttered that latter phrase.

"I am sure this Malthenrî is a very good sort of elleth, but she will not do as future Queen of the realm of Greenwood. To be honest, Mithrandir, I had had in mind Arwen. She would be a most suitable choice. In spite of her human blood, she has, for the most part, an excellent bloodline, with ancestors who are figures of legend."

"Arwen? Surely you jest. She is Legolas' sister."

"Foster-sister, yes, but there is no blood impediment."

"No blood impediment, true, but their feelings would forbid such an alliance."

"Have they not been separated for many years? Was not Arwen being raised by Galadriel in Lothlórien? Surely any brotherly or sisterly feelings they might have had have by now faded."

"I assure you that they have not. I have observed the two closely these past several weeks, and their feelings for each other are those of close kin. In this Galadriel concurs. They are siblings and thus may not wed."

"There is time yet," argued Thranduil. "In another century or so, they may come to look upon each other as no more than friends."

"In which case," Gandalf said dryly, "there would be no sense in trying to affiance them."

"Mithrandir!"

"I think I should advise you, Thranduil, that you may be borrowing trouble on two accounts. First, Legolas is hardly likely to stand still for an arranged marriage."

"But he is a prince, and princes cannot marry as they please! Moreover, my marriage was arranged, and I liked my bride very well indeed—and she me!"

"That is true," agreed Gandalf, "but times change even for the Eldar. Moreover, you must concede that Legolas has had an upbringing very different from yours. He may not embrace practices that seemed quite unexceptional to you. But there is another objection. I said that you were borrowing trouble on two accounts. You must know that Arwen is destined for another."

"She has been troth-plighted already?"

"No, she has not. But she will be."

"She has been sounded out on the matter?"

"No, she has not. But she will be."

Perplexed, and a little angry, Thranduil stared at the wizard.

"Mithrandir, are you saying that a marriage is being arranged for Arwen without herknowledge? If so, how is it you can chide me for wishing to arrange a marriage for my son when you seem so unconcerned about one being arranged for Arwen!?"

The cross expression upon his face reminded Gandalf that beneath a genial exterior could still be found the old Thranduil, the irascible, stubborn King who thought nothing of clapping Dwarves into his dungeons if it served his purpose. So far the reunion between father and son had gone very well—surprisingly so, really—but here was a sign that the young Elf and the old one were bound to disagree at some point. Thranduil expected to be obeyed and did not like being thwarted. Inevitably, however, Legolas would someday refuse to act according to his father's wishes.

"But so it has ever been between father and son," Gandalf reminded himself. "Surely Thranduil and Legolas will not be driven apart by such disputes, which are only to be expected. Too strong is their desire to love and be loved."

For now, however, he gave over such thoughts and attempted to soothe Thranduil's injured feelings.

"I did not say that a marriage was being arranged. I said that she was destined for another. She does not know this, but Galadriel has seen it."

"In that mirror of hers, I suppose. Yet even she will say that the visions in that mirror are equivocal, subject to two or even three—nay! more—interpretations."

"That is true," agreed Gandalf, "but when all signs are taken into account, it is likely that she is correct on this score."

Unconvinced, Thranduil shook his head.

"This matter is not at an end, Mithrandir. I will not give up all hope of making such an alliance for my son on the basis of pictures someone fancies she has seen in a basin of water."

"Your words are intemperate, my friend. Galadriel is no mere 'someone'."

"True, but as Arwen is her granddaughter, perhaps her judgment in this matter has been affected."

"As Legolas is your son," Gandalf shot back, "perhaps yours has been."

"Well hit," Thranduil conceded. "Nevertheless, I will bring up this matter at a later time."

Gandalf bowed slightly.

"Of course, Thranduil. That is your prerogative, both as king and as Legolas' father."

To himself, however, Gandalf exulted. To an Elf, 'later' could be much later indeed, and all that was required was a decade. By the end of that time, Estel would have grown to manhood, and Elrond would at last recall Arwen to Rivendell. Dúnadan and Elleth would meet—oh, yes, he could see it in his mind's eye. They would encounter one another in the woods of Imladris—yes, that is where it would begin, on the greensward among the white stems of the birches—and neither would know the other until they had each plighted troth in their own hearts. Then let Thranduil engage in his best machinations—it would do him no good! As for Legolas, the Lady Galadriel was not sure of his matrimonial future. For his part, however, Gandalf, believed that he would never espouse Malthenrî, even though he had brought up her name to Thranduil as a possible match for Legolas. No, the wizard suspected that so steeped was Legolas in the bonds of friendship between warriors, and such would be the demands upon him, that he would always be in the company of his comrades. Thranduil would be disappointed, but not every Elf need marry. The King would still be assured of an heir, for Tawarmaenas would surely at length choose one of the many Ellith who swarmed about him at every opportunity, much to his bewilderment and discomfiture! As he had desired, that young Elf would never ascend to the throne himself, but his son would.

Shortly after the King and wizard had finished sparring over Legolas' marital status, their party arrived at last at the Great Hall. All dismounted, and eager hostlers led away horses for a well-earned serving of oats and hay. Behind Gandalf and Mithrandir assembled the Lothlórien Elves, Legolas at their head. He was flanked protectively by Haldir, Orophin, and Rúmil, who, seeing that a 'rear guard' was no longer necessary, thought they might be allowed to abandon that post and advance to the front of the company.

Gilglîr looked eagerly past Thranduil and Gandalf, at the Lórien Elves who stood quietly, their faces obscured by their hoods. He tried to peer underneath their head coverings as best he could. There! That one! A little smaller and slenderer than the others, and Gilglîr could not see the color of his hair. But his eyes—they were unmistakable. The Seneschal caught the young Elf's gaze for a moment, and the two exchanged smiles before Legolas glanced down self-consciously.

"He has not forgotten me," thought Gilglîr happily, "although he feels a trifle shy. I shall have to be patient—he may be a bit standoffish at first. After all, he was never one to be boisterous—although Thranduil has had some tales to tell about him in his letters!"

Standing by Gilglîr's side, Tawarmaenas had been equally eager to pick out Legolas from amongst the company of foreign Elves. He, too, caught Legolas' eye, and the two young Elves smiled happily at one another. Gilglîr was pleased to notice that Tawarmaenas was able to hold Legolas' gaze considerably longer than Gilglîr had been able to.

"Good," he thought to himself. "There must be no bad blood between these cousins. Surely there will be some, Men or Elves, who will try to ingratiate themselves into Legolas' good graces by insinuating that Tawarmaenas would have stolen his place in his father's heart and on his father's throne. Others will try to use Tawarmaenas as a stalking horse, implying to him that he has been ill-used—fawned over by the King only to be cast aside when a more eligible heir made his appearance. I do not think either will be susceptible to such blandishments, but if the two present a united front from the beginning, so much the better."

Tawarmaenas was so excited that he had almost forgotten his duty. Prompted by Gilglîr, Tawarmaenas now stepped forward and bowed deeply to both Thranduil and Gandalf.

"My Lord," he said, addressing the King, "all is in readiness for both you and your guests."

"You have prepared suitable accommodations for all?"

"I trust so. When we received word that you would be accompanied by some of our Lothlórien kinsmen, Gilglîr ordered the raising of a fine pavilion, for he said that they would be more comfortable underneath a canopy of cloth than within the carven walls of the Great Hall."

Thranduil turned now to his Seneschal.

"That was well done, Gilglîr. And you have likewise made arrangements for the housing of our old friend Mithrandir?"

"A room within the Great Hall, near the family rooms, for we know of old that he is comfortable in any lodging, whether within or without."

Thranduil dropped his voice to a near whisper.

"The prince's room?"

"Has been dusted, but, as you have bidden, nothing has been changed or removed."

Thranduil nodded.

"Excellent. Escort the Lothlórien Elves with honor to their pavilion, and see that they are provided with all that is needful."

Legolas watched wistfully as Haldir, Orophin, Rúmil, and the other Lórien Elves were led away to the pavilion. He would have loved to have spent one last night in their company, partly for that reason alone—their company—but partly because he would rather be outdoors than in the Great Hall, which, grand as it was, was partially dolven and therefore did not admit as much light and air as would a pavilion. He had been given no choice in the matter, however, and he knew that from now on his father would try to make many such decisions on his behalf. Some he would abide, but he was resolved that he would, if necessary, remind his father that, even though he was young, he was nonetheless of age and did wish to be consulted on matters pertaining to him. Now, however, following close behind Mithrandir, as if he were that wizard's attendant, he slipped as surreptitiously as he could into the Great Hall. He could feel Tawarmaenas' eyes upon him, but it appeared as if everyone else's attention was for the time being riveted upon king and wizard. Good. At the very least he was to be granted another day's respite.

At last they reached the king's private chamber, and all servants were dismissed. At a nod from Gandalf, Legolas at last pushed the hood back from his face. Tawarmaenas didn't waste a minute but launched himself at Legolas as if the two were still elflings.

"Laiqua! Laiqua!" he babbled, "I knew you hadn't been gobbled up by any nasty old spider—you were much too clever for that. You left that hair on purpose, didn't you—to throw everyone off the trail!?"

"I wasn't that clever, Tawarmaenas. I blundered into that spider's web quite by accident. I managed to free myself, but you may be sure that I did not intend to part with any of my hair. It was torn from my head by the roots as I struggled to free myself, and I assure you that it was very painful!"

"Oh, well," said Tawarmaenas, his adulation of his cousin undimmed, "it was still extraordinarily clever of you to make it all the way to Imladris. You were very young, after all. I am sure you have had many adventures, several centuries worth at least. And I am going to make you tell me each and every one!"

"If you try to make me," teased Legolas, "I shall run away! Oh," he exclaimed, catching sight of his father's stricken face, "I am sorry, Ada. I should not have said that."

"Indeed, you should not have," chided Gandalf. "As for his stories," he said, turning to Tawarmaenas, "don't forget to ask him about the number of times he has had to be rescued. Once from a badger hole, I am told—and he was quite naked to boot!"

Legolas colored, but Tawarmaenas stoutly defended him.

"Oh, that's alright," he declared. "The one time I was caught in a spider web, I was naked myself."

"How did you manage that?" asked Legolas.

"I had gone swimming, and, as the day was very hot, I hadn't troubled to put my clothes back on. So there I was, in my natal garment, stuck in a web. I do believe, though, that my predicament may have kept the spiders from immediately attacking and poisoning me. I swear that they first gathered together to laugh at my plight. There certainly was a very odd sort of hissing going on, a spider version of chortling, I think. In any event, by the time the nasty arachnids had recovered their equanimity, Gilglîr had tracked me down and drove them off. He told me he'd once saved himself from spiders by slipping out of his clothes and leaving them fast in the net, so he advised me against frolicking about the forest unclothed. And I never did again, you may be sure!"

They all had a good laugh. Then Thranduil brought the little conclave to a close.

"Speaking of clothing, Legolas, in your room you will find some garments laid out for you. You will no doubt wish to change before we dine. Do you remember the way to your chamber, or would you like one of us to accompany you?"

"I think I remember the way, Ada."

"Good. We will give you a little while to get your bearings, and then we will come by your room to make sure you have everything that is needful."

"Thank you, Ada."

Legolas arose and bowed to the King and inclined his head slightly to Gandalf and Tawarmaenas. Then he set out in search of his old room. He found it very easily, for, to his surprise, he remembered the layout of the Hall in great detail. As he made his way to his room, he was relieved that he encountered no one. Gilglîr had ordered that all retainers retire to the public areas of the Hall.

When Legolas arrived at his old chamber, he slowly pushed open the door and cautiously stepped inside. As he looked about, he saw that it was as he had remembered. There was the bed that had been too tall for him to mount without something to stand upon. Each night he had dragged yonder chair over to the bed; each morning his tutor, with an exclamation of impatience, had pulled it back over to the table. And there was the wardrobe in which he hid the volumes that he purloined from the library because his tutor did not feel that he could be trusted with any but the least valuable of books. He opened the door to the wardrobe and moved aside a pile of leggings that were now much too small for him. To his surprise, there lay the last several books that he had been reading before he fled Greenwood. Nothing had been removed, although it was plain that the room had been dusted, and clean water filled a jug that sat beside the basin at which he had once washed his face and hands before meals.

Upon the bed lay a pair of leggings and a tunic. The latter garment was carefully embroidered, although in an old-fashioned style. Legolas picked it up and thoughtfully ran his hands across the threads that outlined a horse. Then he heard a knock and looked up to see Thranduil and Gandalf standing together in the open door.

"Will those garments do, Legolas?" asked Thranduil anxiously.

"Oh, yes," exclaimed Legolas. "I like them very much."

"Ah, good," said Thranduil. "Then Mithrandir and I will leave you to prepare for the evening repast. Tonight we dine privately. You and I and Mithrandir. Gilglîr will join us, as well as Tawarmaenas, of course. Oh, yes, there also will be someone there who will be very happy to see you clad in those garments, for she it was who made them."

"Nana!" cried Legolas. Then he looked guiltily toward Thranduil. "Edwen Nana," he corrected himself.

Thranduil shook his head. "Nay, Legolas, she is surely your Nana, just as Elrond is surely your Ada."

"You truly do not mind that I call both you and Elrond 'Ada'?

"You are a treasure, Legolas, one of greater worth than all the gems in Smaug's hoard. That dragon's wealth was meant to be shared in the end, and so are you. I think you were born to play your part in a fellowship greater than that defined by kinship alone."

Gandalf smiled and said softly, more to himself than anyone else, "I have been thinking that lo! these many centuries. He is destined to fill an important role in some great endeavor. Much is still hidden from me, but of that I am sure."

Telling Legolas that they would await him nearby, Thranduil and Gandalf left him alone so that he could change into his new tunic and leggings,. As Legolas tried on the clothes, he marveled that they fit him so well. He did not know that Thranduil had sent Edwen Nana a letter describing his proportions as they had been carefully measured by the seamstress at Rivendell who kept him in clothes. Of course, so strong a feeling did his Nana have for her nursling that no doubt she could have intuited the proper dimensions. Still, Thranduil had taken care to think of everything that might ease his son's return to the Great Hall, and providing him with garments that would please him was one of the first matters that occupied his mind.

After Legolas had dressed, he went into the corridor, where he found, as promised, that Thranduil and Gandalf awaited him. The three returned to the King's private chamber, still encountering no one.

Thranduil was speaking to Legolas as he stepped into the chamber, so he was looking to the side and did not see the approaching whirlwind.

"Yes, Ada, I would be honored to give the elflings archery less—oof!"

"Laiqua! You have grown into a warrior, as you always said you would! But you are still my little Laiqua!"

"Nana—I am too—oof!"

"I knew that you were coming back—never believed that you'd been caught by any big lug of a spider. Not my Laiqua, so quick and nimble you always were!

"Thank you, Nana, but I am too ol—ai-yeeeh!!"

"Now you must let me measure you properly. I am sure that the Imladris seamstress did the best she could, but, well, never mind. Let me see. Your inner leg—"

"Not now, Nana! You can't measure me there right now. I-I-I'm hungry!"

It was a stroke of brilliance. His Edwen Nana immediately forgot about the state of his wardrobe.

"Hungry," she sputtered, shooting indignant looks at Thranduil. "Hungry! And you, sir," she added, addressing Gandalf, "you needn't smile. A great wizard you are said to be, but you couldn't divine that the poor lad was hungry? Pah! So much for your magic."

"I think I had better send for the food at once," said Gilglîr hastily as the incensed Elleth advanced upon Gandalf, who looked more alarmed than he ever had when confronted by Orc or dragon. Fortunately, the food was not long in coming, for it was being kept warm near at hand upon a brazier.

Only one servant bore the plates into the chamber—the fewer who came near Legolas, the longer they would be able to maintain his privacy until he felt quite comfortable in the Great Hall. The chosen servant had been keeping several guest chambers. Once, however, she had tended a room in the family wing, but either Thranduil had forgotten this fact or he never knew it. Now, eyes downcast, the maid moved about the table apportioning out generous servings to all. As she approached Legolas, she could not forbear glancing up at him, for he was a stranger and therefore merited some curiosity. When she did so, she started and nearly dropped the platter she held.

"Your pardon, my Lord," she exclaimed, addressing the King. "This young Elf put me in mind of someone whom I have not seen in a long time."

"Did he," said the King, trying to maintain a casual air. "How interesting. You may resume serving the others."

She did so, all the while stealing glances at Legolas. As for that young Elf, feeling himself scrutinized, he became nervous. Helplessly, he began to scratch at the birthmark on the inside of his right arm. Why, he wondered, did it have to itch now, of all times? He tried to be discrete about it, but at last, desperate, he pushed up the sleeve of his tunic in order to reach the aggravating spot. Watching him, Gandalf felt for the unfortunate young prince. The wizard himself had his own birthmark, and he was experiencing a kind of sympathetic itching at that spot. Fortunately, his birthmark was not as accessible as the Elf's, else he might have been reduced to scratching his as well. As it was, he gritted his teeth and tried to look dignified.

Legolas at last vanquished the itching and was on the point of pulling down his sleeve when the servant cast one of her surreptitious glances upon him. She shrieked and dropped the soup tureen she was now holding. Since she was standing next to Thranduil at the time, he was showered with chicken broth and bombarded with dumplings as the tureen tumbled to the floor.

"Laiqua! Laiqua! Little Prince Laiqua! I know that mark! Don't you remember me? I used to put your bed to rights each morning. First time ever I did so, I discovered that little stuffed toy you put such stock in. A horse, I think it was. Do you remember? I showed you where to hide it, didn't I?"

"Yes," said Legolas, smiling now. "I do remember. That was the very first morning I ever awoke in the Great Hall, and the previous day had been dreadful. I do not know what I would have done if, on top of everything else, I had lost my Roch. I had gone to such trouble to hide it from my tutor when he sorted through my kit. Ada," Legolas lamented, turning toward his father, "the tutor discarded nearly everything that I brought with me. And the garments that he did allow me to keep, he took away once new clothing had been sown for me. He said my old tunics and leggings were not appropriate for the son of the King of Greenwood. But I was fond of them. They had been made for me by Nana!"

"Never you mind," said that worthy seamstress stoutly. "I'll sew plenty more for you. And just let that tutor try to lay hands on them!"

Thranduil cleared his throat, but he, too, was smiling.

"Yes, well, Edwen Nana, I am glad to hear that. But right now," he added, turning to the serving maid, "I am the one in need of garments, for mine are rather wet."

"Oh, I am so sorry, my Lord," exclaimed the servant contritely. "Please pardon my clumsiness. I'll just fetch some towels straightway."

With that, she scurried to the door. As she reached it, Thranduil suddenly realized that she ought to be sworn to secrecy about the presence of Legolas in the Great Hall.

"Madam," he shouted after her, "have a care not to mention—oh, bother! She's gone, and the news will be spread throughout the Hall by nightfall—from the laundry to the kitchen, from the pantry to the wine cellar!"

Gandalf was unalarmed. He picked up his wine goblet and sipped from it.

"Well, well," he said as he replaced the vessel. "That may not be so bad an outcome. There was always the possibility that some evil-minded person would spread it about that someone was trying to insinuate an imposter onto the throne. This maid's excited testimony may help forestall such an attempt. Her sincerity is so patent, and both her knowledge and integrity no doubt unimpeachable. Edwen Nana here would testify as to Legolas' identity, but she has not seen him since he was five. This maid is a more recent witness. Tell me, Legolas, is there anyone else who would have seen your birthmark?"

"The Archery Master," replied Legolas, "and the Tailor and the Seamstress."

"And I saw it many times," added Tawarmaenas, "whenever we went swimming or bathed or changed together."

"Excellent! Well, Legolas, I am afraid that your subjects will be knocking upon your door a little earlier than we had planned, but you will be up to the challenge. And you will have Thranduil, Gilglîr, Tawarmaenas, and Edwen Nana by your side. And one very enthusiastic serving maid, I might add."

"And you as well, isn't that so?" asked Legolas anxiously.

"Well, yes, for a few days. Before we left, I heard a little news from Orophin that will make it necessary for me to return a trifle earlier to Lothlórien than I would have liked. It seems that a creature I needs must capture has been spotted."

"You never mentioned that to me," cried Legolas, distressed.

"That is true," allowed Gandalf, "for I did not want to add unnecessarily to your apprehension. But tell me truly, Legolas, now you are here, does the Great Hall seem so fearsome that you must keep an old wizard by your side in order to endure it?"

Legolas looked about at the anxious faces of his friends and kinsmen. After a few minutes, he smiled a little.

"No, I do not think it will be so fearsome a place."

"I thought not," beamed Gandalf. "And now, if you will excuse me, all these centuries of Elf-sitting have left me rather tired. I have been needing a carefree, undisturbed rest this past millennium, and woe betide the Elf who tries to stand in my way as I go in search of it. He will find himself with the beard of a Dwarf and the hairy feet of a Periannath. Tawarmaenas! Don't-even-think-it!"

From the expression on that young Elf's face, it was clear that he had been appropriately quelled by Gandalf's withering look. The wizard arose and strode out of the room, thumping his staff upon the floor as he went.

"Well," exclaimed Edwen Nana, "what an old codger! But now he's gone," she added briskly, "I can get on with measuring you properly, Laiqua."

"But, Nana," said 'Laiqua' quickly. "I'm ever so tired!"

Once again Edwen Nana turned instantly solicitous.

"Oh, you poor dear," she crooned. "The clothes can wait. You must go to bed at once! Would you like me to warm you some milk?"

"Um, mulled wine would be nice."

"Mulled wine! This comes of letting the lad run off to Imladris. Outlandish customs they do keep, or so I have heard."

Legolas adopted a wistful expression and a plaintive tone.

"Ah, but I have become accustomed to their ways, and it will be hard on me if I must adopt Greenwood habits all at once."

"Of course, Laiqua," Edwen Nana agreed obligingly. "I shall mull you some wine at once. Is it honey you want in it?"

"Yes, if you please. And cloves."

Edwen Nana arose and hurried from the room.

"Nana," observed Legolas after she had left the chamber, "always said that if one had to chose between 'doting' and 'duty', 'duty' ought to have the priority. But," he added, laughing, "I must admit that this principle of hers was more honored in the breach than in the observance!"

Thranduil laughed.

"Still, if I were you, Legolas, I would not count upon her indulgence lasting out the week!"

"Good!" exclaimed Legolas. "I could not bear being coddled continually as if I were an elfling—although the mulled wine is a nice touch," he added thoughtfully.

He arose from the table.

"Ada, I spoke truthfully when I said that I was tired. May I be dismissed?"

"Yes. Is there anything you need or want—other than the mulled wine, of course?"

"No, I believe I have everything that I require for the time being."

"You remember where my chamber lies, do you not? If you need anything in the night, do not hesitate to come to me. And, Tawarmaenas, will you go with your cousin and show him how to find your room? If I am absent from my chamber, he should come to you, for it might not be wise to disturb Mithrandir this night!"

"A bearded Elf," said Tawarmaenas. "I should have liked to have seen that."

"Well, I for one have had enough adventures with the hair on my head," declared Legolas. "I do not want to contend with facial hair as well!"

The two young Elves bowed to the King and saluted Gilglîr and then set out for Legolas' room. Along the way, Tawarmaenas showed his cousin where his room lay.

"This was not the room you formerly dwelt in," observed Legolas.

"No. You may remember that when I first came to the Great Hall, my room was placed far from the King's. I do not think he wished to see me or even to be reminded of my presence. But when we returned from the battle for Dol Guldur, he asked whether I would mind taking up residence in one of the rooms next to his chamber. He would like you to move into the room on the other side of his chamber, but he means to ask your permission first. He thought that in the beginning you might feel more comfortable in your old room."

"That was very thoughtful of him," said Legolas gratefully.

"Do you think you shall want to move?" asked Tawarmaenas hopefully. "It would be nice for all of us to be situated so near to one another. And if you are worrying about privacy, he has always respected mine."

Legolas nodded.

"Very well, then. In a few weeks, once the excitement has died down, I will change rooms."

"Ah, good!"

By then they had arrived at Legolas' old room, there to be met triumphantly by Edwen Nana, who bore a tray upon which sat not one but two mugs of mulled wine.

"I suppose," she said, making a show of grumbling, "that it wouldn't do to let one of you drink this foul concoction without similarly indulging the other. It will be a mercy if it don't stunt your growth, the two of you."

"But Nana," said Legolas patiently, "we're all grown."

"I don't know that," she retorted. "And now I'm not like to know, am I?" she added tartly. "Well, I've always tried to do my duty, but I suppose there will be no stopping people from doting on you."

"Goodnight, Nana," laughed Legolas. "And I love you whether you are doting or doing your duty."

After bestowing numerous kisses upon both cousins—"and here be a few extra to tide you over 'til morn"—Edwen Nana departed, no doubt to contemplate designs for the numerous tunics that she proposed to sew over the coming centuries. The two cousins entered the room and perched side by side upon Legolas' bed, sipping their mulled wine in companionable silence. Legolas was struck by the fact that, now the initial excitement of the reunion was over, he and his cousin did not feel it necessary to rattle on incessantly. He thought of the number of times that he had likewise sat quietly with Elladan and Elrohir or with Haldir and his brothers—or, yes, with Elrond or Glorfindel or Erestor or even Gandalf. Sometimes kinship and friendship are so strong that no words need be spoken.

"Gandalf is right," he thought. "Truly the Great Hall is not so fearsome a place, and I will enjoy being with Tawarmaenas and Gilglîr and Nana and my father. And no doubt there will be others here whom I will come to admire or even love. Had I not returned, I would never have known the pleasure to be found in their company. I am twice blessed, for I will be able to know and love the Elves of Rivendell as well as those of Greenwood—nay! thrice blessed, for I must not forget Lothlórien! Perhaps instead of regretting my separation from my foster-family, I should be grateful that they were in fact vouchsafed me as family in addition to the ties to which I was entitled by birth. I have been deprived of nothing but instead gifted with more than most Elves are granted!"

This was quite a new way of looking at things, and Legolas suddenly felt a surge of excitement. He realized that he had just entered upon a new adventure, one in which he had everything to gain and nothing to lose. How did the song go? "Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver but the other gold." Was this not what he indeed was doing? Making new friends but not abandoning the old? He drained the last drop of mulled wine and found himself grinning impishly at his cousin.

"So, Tawarmaenas, what do the young Elves do around here when there are no Orcs to battle?"

Tawarmaenas grinned back at him, his mischievous face a mirror of his cousin's.

"Lately we have taken up barrel riding on the Forest River. Got the idea from a party of Dwarves that came through here several years ago. Drives the Lake-men positively wild because they are used to their barrels arriving roped together neatly into rafts. Instead, they arrive willy-nilly, with young Elves astride whooping and singing. The Men of Esgaroth have to send out boats to gather them together from the far corners of the Long Lake. Occasionally an Elf or two will hide in a barrel, and the Lake-men will grumble at its weight as they wrestle it to shore. Then the Men pry off the lid, and out pops the Elf! But anyone who does that has to be a fast runner, for one time an Elf was caught and the Men cut his hair!"

"Oh, that's nothing," declared Legolas. "Happens to me all the time!"

"We also have a great deal of fun lobbing stones into spider webs. Every time a stone hits a web, out rushes an arachnid, convinced from the way her net is shaking that there must be a prodigious dinner waiting for her!"

"I think," said Legolas solemnly, "that my father will be beside himself if I go anywhere near a spider web."

"Aye, that's likely true," agreed Tawarmaenas. "Well," he said, dropping his voice conspiratorially, "there is a cave on a bluff above the pool where the maidens like to bathe. Would you like to explore that orifice, um, peer into that nook? No! I mean that crack—oh, burzum! you know what I am trying to say!"

"Tawarmaenas," laughed Legolas, "it would warm Elrohir's heart to hear you speak so. He was afraid that I would be bricked up in some sort of hermitage. But, tell me, from whom did you learn the word 'burzum'?"

"From Mithrandir. He singed his beard trying to light a fire. Pointed his staff the wrong direction, apparently. You've never seen anything until you've seen a wizard dancing about with his beard afire!"

Legolas fell over onto his back, so heartily did he laugh. At that moment they heard something hard knocking upon the wall. Instantly they fell silent.

"Tawarmaenas," whispered Legolas, "in what room is Gandalf quartered?"

"That one," Tawarmaenas answered softly, gesturing toward the wall, which, stone though it was, seemed to be vibrating from the blows that were falling upon it.

"I think," whispered Legolas, "that perhaps I ought to turn in. I will see you tomorrow, cousin."

"Aye. Would you like me to accompany you to the dining hall? I suspect my uncle will give over any effort to keep you hidden since by now your presence will have been bruited about by the serving maid."

"Yes. No doubt you are right. I would indeed appreciate having you at my side when I enter the dining hall, for it is sure to be packed with both the friendly and the curious."

"Until tomorrow then, cousin."

"Good-night, Tawarmaenas. And thank you for your kind welcome."

"Thank you for returning," Tawarmaenas replied fervently.

After Tawarmaenas had departed, Legolas pulled off his tunic and leggings and gratefully slipped on the nightdress that had mysteriously appeared in his absence—judging from the embroidery, it was another sartorial creation by his talented Nana. With a sigh of contentment, Legolas slipped under the quilt. Then he grimaced. He was lying upon a lump. He sat up and searched about under the bedding for the offending object. At length he pulled forth—a worn stuffed horse.

"Oh, Roch!" he cried, delighted. He hugged it to his chest as if he were a little elfling again. And he was still hugging it hours later when Thranduil stole into his room. The King had been unable to sleep, so excited he was to have his son safe under his roof. Now he stood by his bedside, smiling down upon the young prince. After awhile, he was joined by Gandalf, who had known perfectly well that the King would suffer from insomnia.

"Mithrandir," whispered Thranduil, "there is something I have been longing to do for many weeks. Do you suppose he would mind if I tucked in his covers?"

"He is asleep," Gandalf whispered back. "How could he possibly mind?"

"If he were awake, would he mind?"

"He would of course profess himself to be indignant at being treated like an elfling, but, no, I do not think he would really mind."

Thranduil leaned down to pull up the quilt and tucked it under his son's chin. For good measure, he kissed him upon the forehead and brushed a few stray hairs behind his ear. Then he surveyed him with satisfaction.

"There, that should do. He is quite warm and safe."

"And now that you have reassured yourself of that fact, for the love of Arda will you go to bed? I can sense your agitation throughout these chambers, and it is keeping me awake!"

"Why, Mithrandir," teased Thranduil, "you said you were done with Elf-sitting!"

"I would be," growled the wizard, "if all you Elves would grow up."

"Once again, well hit," said Thranduil. "You have been in very fine form these last few days, my friend."

"But I will not be in fine form tomorrow if I do not get some sleep."

With that the two friends slipped from the room. When they had left, Legolas allowed his eyes to come back into focus. For a long time he lay awake, smiling contentedly. Meanwhile, in the adjacent chamber, Gandalf felt a soothing sensation of joy wash over him, and, sharing the happiness of his young friend, he allowed Legolas to lull him into that long-awaited sleep.