Beta reader: Dragonfly the Discerning
Kitsune, Dragonfly, and Jebb: Yes, you are right. Tathar is indeed Edwen Nana's child sent back by the Valar, who in their wisdom and kindness are going to allow her to 'foster' her own son at the same time that she fosters Laiqua. And they've both even got birthmarks! (although I think I'll move Tathar's from his arm so his doesn't become confused with Laiqua's).
Farflung: Yes, I am indeed on break and indulging myself to the maximum. (I should be mowing my lawn.)
Joee: As per usual, your wish is my command.
Drews'girland Karri: I am glad you both found the story to be a sweet one. I just hope I don't cross over the boundary into sickeningly sweet. Since I do tend to veer from sweetness to angst and action, I hope I can avoid that trap. I am sure readers will tell me if I don't!
Chapter 2: Grey Father
A few days later, Erynmaethor walked into the clearing carrying a basket and hailed the cottage. Edwen Nana came forth eagerly, wiping her hands upon a towel. She hastened over to peer into the basket.
"So this is the little one," she cooed. "He has a sweet face."
Tathar cooed back at her, and she reached into the basket and picked him up, cradling his head carefully.
"You are sure you don't mind?" said Erynmaethor anxiously.
"Oh, no, I don't mind. When they are little like this and cannot scoot about, it is easy to watch more than one."
"And you will have enough milk?"
"Yes," Edwen Nana assured the Elf.
"Of course," said Erynmaethor, "I understand that you must feed your own laes first, for he will not be suckled later by another. Tathar need only take a little, just enough to tide him over."
"Do not fear," said Edwen Nana. "The more a Naneth nurses, the more milk her breasts will provide. The body knows what is asked and will answer the summons."
"Just the same, I do not expect you to stint your own babe in order to feed ours."
"I will have enough and to spare," Edwen Nana promised. This had always been her philosophy in life, and it had never failed her yet.
Looking back longingly at his infant, Erynmaethor reluctantly left the clearing, and Edwen Nana carried Tathar into the cottage. She spread a quilt upon the floor and laid him down upon it on his back. She could hear Laiqua stirring. Picking him up from his cot, she placed him beside Tathar. The two infants waved their arms about aimlessly at first but soon managed to discover one another, each turning his face towards the other. Soon they were managing to touch each other's faces with their balled-up fists. Their movements might have seemed purposeless to a less-experienced elleth, but Edwen Nana could see that each infant was moving the hand nearest his companion much more frequently than the hand further away. She also knew that they were not hurting each other, even though one infant would look surprised when the other's fist landed on his face. They did not have enough strength to do any damage.
They carried on in this fashion for some time, bonking each other on the nose and in the eye, mouths pursed as if they were perpetually saying 'O', although nothing but bubbles passed between their lips. At last Tathar lost interest in Laiqua and began to whimper, but not because his companion had hurt him.
"You had slept before you got here," Edwen Nana said, "and therefore it is likeliest that you are either hungry or wet, or both. Either condition can be quickly remedied."
Edwen Nana laid a hand to Tathar's bottom.
"Not wet, and I smell nothing. Let us see if you are hungry."
She sat herself upon the bench, leaned against the wall, and opened her gown.
"Ah hah," she crowed, "hungry, I see. Goodness! It is fortunate you do not yet have teeth. You are going to have to learn not to latch on quite so vigorously. My breast is not going anywhere, after all, so you do not have to seize it with such ferocity!"
Edwen Nana let Tathar suckle until he was fully satisfied, and then, placing a towel over her knees, she laid him upon his tummy and rubbed his back until he burped.
Laiqua had not made a sound up until that point, but as soon as Tathar burped, he began to wail.
"Hmm," mused the nursemaid as she laid down Tathar and picked up Laiqua, "it is almost as if this one knew to wait his turn, not complaining until I had nursed his companion."
Laiqua stared intently into Edwen Nana's face as he suckled. The nursemaid had never known an infant to have such an intense gaze, and it both amused and troubled her.
"You are going to be a serious little elfling," she told him, "mayhap too serious. I pray that you will find reason to laugh. It is true that your father thus far has given you little cause to do so, but you are young yet, and matters may change."
It seemed as if her prayer was destined to be answered. As Laiqua became satiated with milk, his body relaxed and he became drowsy. His eyelids drooped and his lips parted, the nipple slipping from his mouth. The lips of the sleepy and milk-contented infant curved upward. The elders amongst the Nanith had long argued over whether this expression on an infant's face was a true smile or a mere simulacrum of one. Edwen Nana had always believed the former. "The babe is happy," she would argue, "and his lips are curved upward. If a grown Elf is happy and his lips curve upward, we say that he smiles. Why should we not say the same of a laes?"
She was certain, then, that Laiqua lay smiling upon her lap. Carefully she lifted him and laid him back on the quilt next to Tathar. As she did so, she heard footsteps approaching the door. She frowned. The footsteps sounded heavier than those of an Elf. Still, there were guards posted in the forest. Surely they would not let anyone or anything untoward approach the cottage. She went to the door and looked out. Ah, it seemed as if she were correct. 'Twas merely an old Man, a poor wanderer, no doubt, for he was dressed in a plain grey robe and carried only a small bag slung over his shoulder. In his hand was a staff, and his head was protected by a hat. His only adornment was a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.
"Welcome, grandfather," said Edwen Nana politely. "If you are hungry or thirsty, pray come in. I can offer you only plain fare, but there is plenty of it."
"Thank you, daughter," answered the old Man. He doffed his hat and entered the dwelling, stooping a little for the door was low. Once inside, he straightened up and looked around appreciatively.
"You have arranged things very comfortably here," he said. Then he looked down at his feet.
"Oh ho! Twins!"
"No, they are not twins, not exactly, although they are quite near in age."
"But they have got the same mother, have they not?"
"Yes—no—well, after a fashion. It is a rather complicated story. They are both mine, in one way, but, then in another sense neither of them is mine."
"A riddle," said the old Man. "I like riddles. Indeed, they are my stock in trade. Do you mind if I smoke," he added, drawing out a pipe.
"Indeed I do!" exclaimed Edwen Nana. "The very idea! I'll have no nasty fumes around my babes!"
"Oh, sorry," said the old Man apologetically. "I had forgot."
"Forgot! How could you forget when you just now saw the babes asleep at your feet!?"
"I hadn't forgotten they were there," said the Man humbly. "I was just not thinking about the fact that it would be an ill thing for such wee ones to breathe in the fumes."
"It is an ill thing for anyone to breathe in such fumes," Edwen Nana declared vehemently.
"True, true," the old Man said hastily. "Well, I will be going."
Edwen Nana's expression instantly softened.
"Nay, grandfather, you will not! You have not yet supped. Here. Sit ye down," she said, pulling out one of the chairs from the table. "You must not mistake me. You are very welcome as long as you do not befoul the air of this cottage. Afterward, you may go outside and smoke if you like."
"I thank you, daughter," the old Man said gravely, leaning his staff against the wall and accepting the proffered chair. "I have walked a long way and still have a considerable distance to go."
"It is near sundown. You may stay here tonight if you like."
"Thank you. If it would not discommode you greatly, I will accept your kind offer. I know I am still a long journey from the Great Hall."
"The Great Hall," said Edwen Nana, surprised. "You have an errand takes you to the Great Hall?"
"Yes, I have heard tell that the Queen will soon give birth to a child, and I would congratulate both her and the King."
"The Queen has already given birth to a child—"
"Excellent!"
"—but she died doing so."
"No! That cannot be! And the child as well?"
"The child lives. A strong little fellow he is."
"That at least will be some comfort to Thranduil in his grief."
"I think not. He has sent the laes away."
The old Man arose and walked over to the quilt where the two infants still lay sleeping. He stood there studying them with a thoughtful expression. At last he spoke.
"The golden-haired one, I assume, for there is no red hair on either his mother's or his father's side."
"I do not know what you mean," said Edwen Nana cautiously.
The old Man laughed.
"Oh, I understand. You have been told something along the lines of 'Keep him secret; keep him safe'—is that not so? Well, well, you need not fear. Riddles are my stock in trade, but so are secrets. I will not betray you. What is he called?"
"Laiqua," Edwen Nana said hesitantly.
The old Man resumed his seat at the table, and Edwen Nana, bewildered, placed a plate and a mug before him. Who was this stranger? she wondered. He was poorly clad yet had a kingly manner and a wisdom not often found in vagabonds. She was prevented from further musings on the subject by the arrival of Erynmaethor, who had come to collect his son.
"Ah, Edwen Nana, I see you have a guest."
"Yes, this is, this is—ah, sir, I do not believe you have mentioned your name."
"Have I not? It is Mithrandir."
"Mithadar? Grey Father?"
"No, Mithrandir, Grey Pilgrim—although Mithadar would do nicely as well, I think."
"Edwen Nana," said Erynmaethor, "I have whittled you a small mug for Laiqua to use when he is ready to be weaned."
"That won't be for months, Erynmaethor," said Edwen Nana. "But I thank you!"
"You are a wood carver?" said Mithrandir.
"Yes," said Erynmaethor proudly.
"Have you ever fashioned a bow?'
Erynmaethor shook his head.
"Neither bow nor shaft. I leave that sort of work to the King's Armorers."
"Nevertheless, I should be glad if you would fashion a small bow for Laiqua here when he is old enough to walk."
Mithrandir drew forth a coin from the wallet that hung from his belt. Erynmaethor shook his head.
"You needn't pay me. I was planning on carving toys for both the children."
"Ah, but this must not be a toy. It should be fashioned as if it were an adult bow in miniature. And do not make it too easy for him to draw the string!"
Erynmaethor decided to humor the old Man. He accepted the coin.
"As you wish, Master Mithrandir. And I shall fashion him arrows as well, as many as he can lose!"
"Oh," said Mithrandir placidly, "I'll warrant he won't lose many."
Tathar began to stir and whimper just then.
"Time to take the laes to the wife," laughed Erynmaethor.
"Of course," said Edwen Nana tartly, "it is always time to take the baby to the wife when he begins to cry."
"Well, I can't feed him," protested Erynmaethor.
"No, but you could change his nappy. If you would use your nose, you would know that that is the problem. He is not hungry!"
"I don't smell anything," Erynmaethor insisted.
"So much for the acute senses of Elves," grumbled Edwen Nana. "Can spot an Orc from twenty leagues but can't smell a fouled nappy no more than six feet from him."
She knelt down beside Tathar and made quick work of replacing the dirty nappy with a clean one. When she arose holding Tathar in her arms, she smiled at the disgusted expressions on the faces of both Elf and Man.
"You would think you had just seen a warg," she teased. "How is that you males, who brag that you would wade through blood and muck on the battlefield, develop weak stomachs at the sight of a baby's nappy? Aye, and you run when an infant's nose wants tending. Not to mention how you react when a babe develops a sour stomach and needs must vom—"
"Madam!" interrupted Mithrandir, looking a trifle desperate. "Say no more. We yield the field!"
Laughing, Edwen Nana handed Tathar to Erynmaethor, who looked as if he would have retched had the elleth carried on much longer. Bidding good-night to Edwen Nana and Mithrandir, he retrieved the baby's basket and hastened away.
Mithrandir went outside to smoke, but he set aside his pipe and returned inside when he heard Laiqua wailing. It seemed that he, too, needed a fresh nappy. After Edwen Nana had changed him, Mithrandir asked if he might hold him.
"Do you know how to hold an infant?" Edwen Nana asked doubtfully.
"Certainly. It is necessary to support the infant's head," said the old Man, who spoke as if he were reciting from a book.
Edwen Nana still looked skeptical, but she instructed Mithrandir to sit upon the bench and then gently placed the baby in his lap. The Man looked him over carefully, as if memorizing his every feature.
"Golden hair. Blue eyes. Well-formed limbs. Shapely ears even for an Elf. Will be exceptionally handsome, I think. Ow! Strong. Wouldn't want to be kicked there by him once he has advanced to boots. Hul-lo! What's this? Curious birthmark, that."
"Oh, that's nothing," exclaimed Edwen Nana, anxious lest Mithrandir think the birthmark a flaw. "It's only a tiny little birthmark, and it won't show under the sleeve of a tunic."
"Yes, it would be good to cover it over," said Mithrandir, but he did not say so because he thought the birthmark a flaw. He had his own reasons for believing that it would not be wise to flaunt a birthmark that looked remarkably like the elvish word for 'nine'.
"Well, well," he continued, "this child is practically perfect in every way—rather like myself," he added with an air of nonchalance.
Edwen Nana was speechless. Such arrogance, saying that Laiqua was only 'practically perfect' and laying claim to being 'practically perfect' himself! Of course, the logic of her indignation was flawed, relying as it did upon her feeling that 'practically perfect' was a demeaning insult when applied to her laes but that the same phrase was grandiose when applied to anyone else. But a mother is not required to be logical on the subject of her child!
"Oh, oh, oh!" Mithrandir suddenly exclaimed, grimacing. "Whatever is happening? You have just changed this child, and he has gone and—oh, take him, please!"
With a smug expression on her face, Edwen Nana relieved Mithrandir of the infant and handed him a towel with which to daub at his robe.
"It so happens," she informed him grandly, "that an infant wets more than once a day. In fact, it is well nigh a rule of nature that, once you have changed a nappy, the child will wet again almost at once.'
"So why bother changing the nappy," grumbled Mithrandir, "if he is only going to wet the new one?"
Edwen Nana rolled her eyes.
"Master Mithrandir, have you ever had to deal with a rash on a baby's bottom?"
"No, praise the Valar."
"Then hold your tongue!"
Mithrandir looked astonished at being addressed in such a fashion, but he did as he was told.
"Here," said Edwen Nana, gesturing toward the quilt. "Let me show you how to diaper an infant; you never know when such a skill may come in handy."
"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mithrandir indignantly. "I don't do nappies!"
"I had a mind to pick some strawberries, but if you will not watch the babe a bit, then I will give o'er the plan," threatened Edwen Nana.
"Strawberries?"
"Aye, strawberries. Large, sweet, juicy strawberries."
Apparently Mithrandir's 'practically perfect' nature did not extend to resisting the siren call of strawberries. Grudgingly, he got down on his knees and bent over the baby as Edwen Nana instructed him in the arcana of folding the cloth just so. Laiqua was necessarily uncovered for a moment, and he did what naked babies have been doing for millennia in the middle of having their nappies changed. He let loose. (Male babies in particular are prone to this—or mayhap it is simply more obvious that they are doing so.) Suddenly Mithrandir found himself with a soggy beard.
"You ought to trim that beard more often," Edwen Nana observed serenely. "Then that sort of thing wouldn't happen."
Mithrandir was so mortified that he was incapable of putting together a coherent sentence.
"In all my years, I have nev—durn me to Mord—by the Val—oh, bother it all!"
Edwen Nana picked up a basket.
"I shall be back shortly. There are more clean nappies in the wardrobe. Now, play nicely," she said sweetly.
Mithrandir growled into his damp beard. Then he sat back on his heels and contemplated the cooing baby.
"Well," he said at last, "mayhap this shall prove useful in the future. Yes," he continued, grinning wickedly, "should you ever get out of line, I shall threaten to announce before all and sundry, 'Laiqua, I changed your nappies when you were little'. That should bring you around quickly enough!"
Mithrandir now looked positively gleeful, but his joy was to be short lived. Suddenly he wrinkled up his nose.
"What is that awful odor?"
He looked suspiciously at the laes.
"You haven't, have you?" he said desperately.
He sniffed cautiously.
"You have," he groaned.
Back down upon his knees he went, although this time he was careful to stay out of the 'line of fire'.
"And to think it will be centuries before you come of age," he muttered. "Exactly how old is an elfling when he graduates from nappies to leggings, I wonder?"
Fortunately for Mithrandir, Edwen Nana did indeed return shortly, and she was treated to a most endearing sight. Mithrandir was cradling the laes in his arms, pacing softly back and forth, and crooning a lullaby. His voice was not much to brag about, but the gentleness of tone was unmistakable. When he noticed Edwen Nana, however, he cleared his throat and turned all business.
"I think he is hungry," he announced, "and I could only comfort him by lugging him about the cottage. I hope I managed things in the appropriate manner."
"You did indeed, Master Mithrandir, and you may reward yourself with some strawberries. Then you may take your rest upon that quilt if you like, and in the morning I'll send you on your way with a good breakfast under your belt."
Mithrandir was well pleased with those arrangements—he had been living rather 'rough' for the past several months—and he slept well, never stirring when, from time to time, Laiqua's cries roused Edwen Nana for the night feedings.
On one of these occasions, Edwen Nana shook her head as she listened to Mithrandir snore whilst she nursed Laiqua.
"Males," she thought to herself, "think that the world depends upon their actions, but they are incapable of dealing with the most important of tasks, such as succoring infants. Why, if Laiqua were left to Mithrandir's care, the poor little mite no doubt would wail the whole night through without that big lug of a fellow stirring even once."
Edwen Nana rolled her eyes at the hopeless incompetence of males.
The next morning Mithrandir awoke rested and cheerful and eagerly 'tucked into' the promised breakfast, which, he thought to himself, would have done any Hobbit household proud, so delicious and bountiful was the food. To his delight, quite a few strawberries remained from the night before.
After breakfast, he made ready to leave, thanking Edwen Nana for her hospitality. As he stood in the doorway bidding her farewell, he looked about the humble dwelling one last time.
"Yes," he said loftily, "I approve of these arrangements. This cottage shall do nicely as his abode, and you shall do nicely as his nurse. Good day!"
With that, Mithrandir gripped his staff, jammed his hat more firmly upon his head, and strode briskly off, leaving behind a flummoxed Edwen Nana.
"Who is he," she wondered, "that he should presume to pass judgment upon my arrangements!? One would think he were the guardian instead of me! Peculiar old Man, to be sure. Well, it was pleasant to have a guest, even such a strange one. I wonder if I shall ever see him again."
In point of fact, Mithrandir never returned to the cottage, but Edwen Nana would see him again, when Laiqua had grown and was known as Legolas. But she did hear from him whilst Laiqua was still under her care. One day a letter arrived, with a coin enclosed. "Honored Nurse," the missive read, "please use this coin to replace Laiqua's broken bow. Your servant, Mithrandir."
Perplexed, Edwen Nana reread the brief note.
"His bow is not broken," she thought to herself. "Whatever am I to do with this coin?"
Just then Laiqua appeared in the doorway.
"Nana," he cried, "my bow gave way—do you think it can be mended?"
Astonished, Edwen Nana took the bow from his hand. It had snapped near the middle.
"No, Laiqua, it cannot be mended."
Laiqua looked stricken. The little fellow loved archery above all pursuits.
"But," continued Edwen Nana, "it was time for you to have a better bow anyway. Your old bow, although Erynmaethor whittled it carefully, was no match for one properly made by a craftsman specializing in such a task. Give this coin to Erynmaethor and ask him to commission a bow for you the next time ever he goes to the Great Hall. He plans a trading trip within the next fortnight, I believe."
"Thank you, Edwen Nana," exclaimed Laiqua, much relieved.
She smoothed his hair, although, of course, it did not actually need smoothing—this was Laiqua, after all, who would grow up to be Legolas.
"There is someone else you will have to thank someday," she said thoughtfully, "and I do not doubt but that you will have the opportunity. Mayhap he is your guardian after all."
"Nana?"
"Oh, don't mind me, love. Go on with you. I see Tathar hiding behind a tree. Catch him out and make him help you weed the garden. 'Twill go faster if the two of you do it together."
This plan was agreeable to the elfling, and he crept round behind the cottage so that he could come up behind Tathar. Joyful shouts ensued, and then the two friends settled down to their task, knowing full well that their reward would be one of the pastries baking in the oven. Watching them, Edwen Nana decided not to trouble the lad with portents but to allow him to live out his final few days in the clearing in as carefree a manner as possible. For the mysterious message was, she knew, a portent of some kind. And from that day on Edwen Nana watched the edges of the clearing anxiously, awaiting the inevitable arrival of the next message, the one that would drag Laiqua from the clearing and into whatever destiny awaited him.