Disclaimer: All characters in this story, save my own, do not belong to me. They are property of J.R.R. Tolkien, and whoever else owns the copyright. I write this tale for entertainment purposes alone, and I am neither seeking nor receiving any profit from it whatsoever, lest it be in the form of confidence-building reviews, and extra practice in writing.
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Melui: Thank you! I love Legolas, too.farflung: Thank you. Yes, Legolas cares deeply for his friends - even when it means he gets to cut his punishments short. I'm sure you can imagine his sacrifice ) . Yes, poor Galion. The young elves (along with myself) certainly do enjoy torturing him! And don't worry, you'll find out about the skins soon enough.
PokethePenguin: Thanks! Yes, I love stories about young Legolas, too. That's why I wanted my first fanfic to be one.
Ash49: Thank you for the review, and especially the compliment! I'm blushing! To tell you the truth, I did, in fact, know that elves celebrated their Begetting Day (I'd read it a while ago), but I couldn't remember what it was called. And I didn't think that I should have Legolas throwing a party for "the day Lothwen was conceived," because it sounded really weird. Thank you so much for telling me what it was called - it was driving me crazy, and I felt so bad for posting it as it was. Yes, I couldn't resist making fun of Galion. From what I've read in The Hobbit, he just seems to be that kind of elf! Thanks again!
Sirnonenath: Thanks! I don't think that I could send Legolas away, either. I hope I kept up to your expectations on my language usage - I, too, don't like stories that sound choppy, so I try to avoid it wherever possible. You should be seeing Lothwen in the next chapter. No, I am not following the age described in the movie - Legolas just didn't seem that old to me in the book. He is about twenty-four years old in this story, so that makes him just over nine in human years, while Lothwen is turning ten. Also, I wanted the forest to be at least a little bit dangerous for a group of young elflings, and I thought that if I made the forest Greenwood the Great, as I'd originally planned, it would be much too safe. Thanks again!
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Chapter Three: When Plans Go Astray.
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Legolas stepped cautiously into the palace gardens, sharp eyes sweeping the area for any sign of another presence. When his gaze reached the centre of the grounds, it rested upon a beautiful grey stone fountain shaped in the likeness of a fair elven maiden. Her long hair flowed down her back in delicate waves; her full lips were curved in a gentle smile; and upon her forehead, just above bright, expressive eyes filled with joy, love, and mirth, rested a thin mithril circlet of flowers and shining jewels. The maiden was looking fondly down into her elegant outstretched hands, where her long fingers curved to cup a tiny silver sparrow. About the hem of her gown lay many smooth stones of different hues, and from between the gaps a steady flow of crystalline water bubbled and fell, making its way down the pedestal and into the pool below, where water lilies floated happily in the bright sun.
Legolas walked slowly up the curving path, past rosebushes, flowers, and intricately shaped trees, and, arriving at the fountain, he stopped. The elf reached out his hand to touch the white lilies that bordered the now-circling path, and looked up into the fair face of the statue; he smiled wistfully as he felt a pang in his chest. His mother had always loved lilies.
"Good morning, Naneth," he let his hand fall to his side, and, moving toward the fountain, softly caressed the smooth stone of the Lady's dress. Although it appeared cold and hard at first glance, his hand met with gentle warmth. "I know it's been a long time since I've come to see you, but Adar is being difficult again. He wouldn't let me leave my room for a week!" A soft wind swept past his hair, lifting it into his face where it caressed his pale cheek. "No, I'm still being punished," he said sullenly, "but today is Lothwen's party, and Faelon and I have been planning it for so long that it didn't seem right for me to miss it. Besides, he said that he didn't want to have the party if I wasn't there, and I wouldn't want Lothwen to think we didn't care about her begetting day."
A bird chirped in one of the trees, and Legolas started as the purpose of his trip came back to mind. "I have to get flowers for Lothwen," he said, looking once more into the face of the statue. "Faelon said that he would show me how to make garlands from them, and that we could hang them from the trees - but he said that I must not pick just anything, for they have to match well with each other," he shook his head and laughed lightly and the memory of his friend's insistence. "He truly is strange. Nevertheless, though, I thought roses and daisies might be nice...and lilies, too," Legolas looked imploringly up at his mother, and it seemed as though the stone beneath his palm grew warmer. His face lit up in a bright smile, "I promise not to take too many!"
With that, Legolas busied himself about the garden, picking the flowers his mother had so loved and the white lilies that she had adored. And finally, when he was done, he returned to the silent stone maiden and reverently placed a single white bloom by her feet.
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Now more than a little intoxicated, Galion placed the jug of fresh sweet tea on the oak table beside two wine bottles. He poured the liquid into the skins, and, misjudging the capacity of the fifth, giggled as the contents overflowed and sloshed onto the table, forming a small puddle. Gasping dramatically and with a panicked yelp of "My table!" he wiped fervently at the mess with a white silk cloth from his pocket. The butler froze, and, looking down at the refined fabric, gasped in horror once more. However, this proved once too many, and the poor elf was immediately assailed by a string of choking coughs.
Gripping the table for support, tears pooling in his swollen red eyes, Galion struggled for breath as the burning sensation slowly ebbed away. With one last cough, he straightened and smoothed out his tunic in what was supposed to be a dignified manner, and took up the cloth from where it had fallen on the table. "Ai," he whimpered, "my handkerchief has been besmirched!" Giggling hysterically, Galion wobbled out of the kitchen to clean it.
A loud crash echoed from the adjacent room, and Galion hobbled back into the kitchen, his hair tussled, and a dazed look in his eyes. He limped to the table and looked down at the ten water skins before him. Frowning, he poked at his chin, his expression thoughtful. A moment passed and with a soft "Ah!" Galion scooped up the first five and placed them on the opposite counter. He then reached into his tunic and pulled out a leaf of parchment, and plucked a quill from the kitchen drawer. In an unruly scrawl, he wrote:
Thavron.
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Earlier that morning...
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He could hear the soft birdsong as it drifted faintly in through his window, and the steady rhythm of the trees' breaths; he could feel the soft morning breeze caressing his cheek and playing in his hair. A quiet smile tugged at his lips as the exquisite smell of honey, cinnamon, eggs, berries, and fresh warm bread wafted into his room. He sighed happily, willing his eyes to clear from his elvish dreams, when he heard the faint padding of running feet. The sound became clearer and suddenly his door was thrown open with a loud crash, followed by an excited squeal of "Wake up!"
Something hard landed on his stomach, and he gasped, jerking awake. Staring at him were two large, sparkling deep-blue eyes.
"Faelon!" The melodic voice giggled, "Nana says it's time for breakfast!"
"All right, all right," Faelon sighed, attempting to free himself. "I was already awake, you know, Dinnulín. You did not need to attack me."
"I didn't!" Her lips pouted indignantly and she rose and sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned in until their noses nearly met, and whispered conspiratorially: "Today is the day, Faelon! Y-you didn't forget, did you?" Her face was stricken.
"Of course not," he smiled warmly and raised his hand to pet her head. "I was just enjoying the morning for but a moment more. You had best go and eat, Dinnu; you would not want Ada to use all of the honey."
"Oh, no!" A flash of panic appeared in her blue eyes and she turned to run out of the room, but she stopped at the doorway: "And don't take forever to get ready, Faelon - I want to go see Legolas!" She sent him a warning glare, and, raven hair trailing behind her, sprinted from the room.
Faelon rolled his eyes and rose from the bed, moving to his dresser where he pulled out various pairs of leggings and tunics. Looking down at them, he frowned, 'Legolas said the table cloth would be a light green.' He removed two blue tunics, 'I certainly can't wear those!'
The young elf entered the kitchen an hour later, much to the aggravation of his little sister. His chestnut hair was meticulously combed and braided, and each garment matched and complemented the other; he wore deep forest-green leggings, brown shoes, and a light green tunic with embroidered silver leaves.
"You look very handsome, ion nín," his mother said, bending down to kiss his cheek. "May I inquire as to the occasion?"
"One does not need an occasion to look one's best, nana," he replied with a smile, taking a loaf of bread from the table. "Are you coming Dinnu?"
The two elves made their way toward the homes near Mirkwood's caves, Dinnulín chattering happily about Lothwen's surprise party. She and her brother were in charge of getting the food and drink, and Dinnulín was determined to fulfill the task to the best of her ability. It was just as the young Lady was listing her plans for dessert that the two arrived at their destination; a great oak tree, encircled by a set of winding stairs leading to a large building nestled in the sturdy boughs. A lazy stream of smoke escaped from a small chimney, and floated up to drift away on the breeze.
"He's home, Faelon," Dinnulín smiled at the sight and gave her brother's hand a small tug. "I knew he would be!"
They climbed the stairs and, reaching the door, Faelon knocked softly. A moment later the door opened and a tall, dark-haired elf with deep brown eyes greeted them.
"Dínendír!" Dinnulín crowed happily and embraced the elf's midsection.
"Mae govannen, Dinnulín," he had a soft, pleasant voice and a ready smile. "To what do I owe the honour?"
They moved past the threshold and into the warm home. It was a large, handsome dwelling with many open windows, and a small fireplace at the opposite end. There were few furnishings to be had, but those that were had been carefully crafted of fine wood and skilfully decorated. Resting on shelves about the room were many delicate glass sculptures.
"I have a gift for you," Dínendír said, smiling warmly at Dinnulín as he took a small figure from the shelf. "I know how much you like them."
The young she-elf beamed as he handed her a small glass bird. It gazed up at her with tiny eyes, and as the light from the fire hit it, the little creature seemed almost to be alive. She gasped out a quiet thank you and hugged the elf once more.
"You know, Dínendír," said Faelon with a light laugh, "she is getting quite a collection of these little sculptures - soon you will run out of animals!"
"Then I shall have to move to flowers," he smiled. "But you still have not answered my question."
"Oh, yes. We were wondering if you would do us but a small favour," he said, glancing at his little sister, who was cuddling happily with the tiny bird.
"And what might this favour be, mellon nín?"
"Well," Faelon looked back at the tall elf, "Dinnu and I were wondering if you could get Galion to make us some sweet tea. But it is for a most secret reason, so I cannot tell you why."
"Why do the two of you not do it?"
"Well, you see," the young elf's cheeks brightened, "Galion is rather put out with us – Legolas played a trick on him again – and I know he will not give us the tea because he will think that it is for him, and so we came to ask you. We knew that you would do it because you're the nicest elf in Mirkwood ...So if you could just ask him, we can pick it up later."
"Then who am I to refuse such a request?" Dínendír said, trying not to smile.
"Thank you, Dínen!" Dinnulín cried as she jumped up to embrace him. "You're such a nice elf!"
"Is that all that you require, my young friends?" He asked as he smiled down at the child.
"Yes, thank you," said Faelon.
"Then I had best be off. I have much to do today." With that, he walked to the door and held it open for them, and the elves took their leave.
Walking down the path, Faelon turned to his little sister, "Where to now, tithen muinthel?"
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"Naneth" – mother
"Nana" – mom, mommy, etc
"Adar" – father
"Ada" – dad, daddy, etc
"Ion nín" – My son
"Mae govannen" – Well met. It's a form of greeting among elves, for those of you who don't know.
"Mellon nín" – My friend
"Tithen muinthel" – Little sister
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Next chapter: We will at last get to meet Lothwen, I promise, and the plans will finally start to "go astray" as the title promised, but has not yet delivered..
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Thanks for reading!Ethelewen